


adolescence and all its glory

by pageleaf



Series: never seen it look so easy [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: College/University, Developing Relationship, Established Iwaoi, Established Relationship, Flirting, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Manga Spoilers, Multi, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Threesome - M/M/M, Wooing, eventual OT3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-12 22:19:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7951345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pageleaf/pseuds/pageleaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iwaizumi was supposed to meet new people. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do, when you go to a different university from your best friend? Now that his life isn’t filled with Oikawa, he <em>should</em> have been making new friends, trying new things, whatever.</p>
<p>Instead, he shows up barely on time to his anatomy class, hears a small noise from beside him, and turns around to see Ushijima Wakatoshi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> first haikyuu fic!!!! i had a great need for more fic in this ot3....so i wrote it lmao
> 
> went with the canon note that iwa-chan and oikawa are attending different universities, and the popular fanon headcanon that iwa-chan is studying sports medicine. this is probably the most sickeningly fluffy thing i've ever written in my life, and i'm proud of it. enjoy!
> 
> the explicit rating is for the following chapter, which is a bonus post-main-fic ot3 porn. the first chapter stands alone, if you'd prefer to skip the porn!
> 
> as always, ETERNAL LOVE to the people who made this possible, esp to plalligator and Loreley for letting me bounce ideas off them and for betaing, and to Laura and Yulya on twitter for participating in the convo that began this in the first place ♥♥♥
> 
> title is from "happily ever after" by he is we :)

Iwaizumi was supposed to meet new people. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do, when you go to a different university from your best friend? Now that his life isn’t filled with Oikawa, he _should_ have been making new friends, trying new things, whatever.

Instead, he shows up barely on time to his anatomy class, hears a small noise from beside him, and turns around to see Ushijima Wakatoshi.

“No,” he says, out loud, and he’s not even ashamed. Ushijima tilts his head at him like a giant, annoyingly stoic dog, and Iwaizumi feels irritation swell up in him. Before he can open his mouth and say anything, however, the professor clears her throat and begins class.

Probably for the better.

Still:

“What are you doing,” Iwaizumi hisses at the end of class as everyone’s packing up.

Ushijima slow-blinks at him, unreadable as always. “I don’t follow,” he says, like he hasn’t just spent an entire class period sneaking glances at him for no apparent reason.

Iwaizumi groans. “I was supposed to be meeting new people.” Ushijima just stares at him. What, seeing that stare from across the net during all of middle school and high school wasn’t enough? At least they won’t be competing this time.

Ushijima doesn’t say anything, and Iwaizumi grits his teeth.

“Whatever,” he says. “I’ll just...sit somewhere else, next time. See you later, Ushijima.” Although hopefully not, he doesn’t say. He’s not that rude.

He gets up, slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder.

“Wait.”

Iwaizumi sighs, turns around. “What?”

“Get coffee with me.” Ushijima says. It’s almost a request. He’s still sitting down, so he has to look up at Iwaizumi.

Wait. What?

“What?” Iwaizumi says, like a broken record.

“Coffee,” Ushijima says slowly. Like it’s a perfectly reasonably request, and Iwaizumi is just being _dense_.

Iwaizumi shakes his head. “No.”

Ushijima frowns, uncomprehending. “Why?” he asks. “I’ll pay.”

“Why on earth—” Iwaizumi begins, then cuts himself off. The next class is filing into the lecture hall. Maybe he can find out whatever the fuck Ushijima wants, get a free cup of coffee, and move on. “Fine. _Fine_. Are you free now?” Ushijima nods. “Okay, fine, let’s go.”

They head, side by side, to the cafe closest to the lecture hall. Iwaizumi shoves his hands into his pockets and looks to the side the whole time. Ushijima, of course, keeps glancing at him.

“Stop that,” Iwaizumi says.

Ushijima looks away, and Iwaizumi makes a surprised noise. He didn’t think that would work.

The cafe isn’t crowded when they arrive, so Ushijima leads them to a booth by the window and sets his backpack down. “What would you like?”

Iwaizumi thinks for a second about telling him it’s fine, he doesn’t have to pay. But to be honest, this is actually really fucking weird, so Ushijima can afford to buy one coffee.

“Just a latte is fine,” Iwaizumi says. “No sugar.”

While he waits, he pulls out his phone, opening up his text conversation with Oikawa. He should probably tell him about this. On the other hand, he doesn’t really know what ‘this’ is, so maybe he should wait? Ugh. He puts his phone away and drums his fingers on the table until Ushijima comes back with two coffees.

“Thanks,” Iwaizumi says, taking his. Their hands brush for a moment, which normally Iwaizumi wouldn’t notice or care about, except that Ushijima jerks back, nearly spilling the other coffee on himself.

Iwaizumi snorts. “Careful,” he says, amused despite himself. Ushijima must really be nervous, which is both hilarious and worrying. “What’s this about, Ushijima?”

“I want to be friends,” Ushijima says.

“...what.” Iwaizumi squints at him.

“Friends,” Ushijima repeats. “I want to be your friend.”

“Ok, but. Why.” Iwaizumi takes a gulp of coffee. He burns himself, but barely notices it.

“You’re the only person I know at this university.” Ushijima folds his hands on the tabletop like a professor about to deliver a lecture. “I thought it would be...nice.”

Iwaizumi swallows, feels his mouth twist. “Nice.”

Ushijima blinks at him, so his bitterness must have come through clearly enough. “I don’t understand,” he says. “Surely we can set aside our petty high school feud.”

“Look, Ushijima,” Iwaizumi says. “You beat whatever team I was on for literal years, basically making me feel like shit. _Which_ ,” he presses, when Ushijima opens his mouth to interject, “I recognize is not entirely your fault. You were playing your best for your team.”

“Exactly,” Ushijima says, sounding relieved.

“But what you didn’t have to do,” Iwaizumi continues, voice steely, “is spend all of high school trying to convince my best friend and setter that he had made the wrong choice by staying with me. That our team wasn’t good enough for him, and that I, as an ace, wasn’t good enough for him. That your team, but especially you, would have been _better_. You knew he wasn’t going to transfer schools, so what did you gain by saying that?”

Ushijima stares at him like he’s never seen him before, wide-eyed and stunned. “I—”

Iwaizumi shakes his head. “Sorry,” he says. “I don’t think we can be friends. Thanks for the coffee.”

He picks up the latte, grabs his bag, and exits the shop, leaving Ushijima still thunderstruck behind him.

 

(1:42) you’ll never fucking guess who i ran into today.

(1:43) hmmmmmmmmmmm let me guess...........

(1:44) was it ushiwaka?? ;)

(1:46) ...

(1:46) was it???

(1:49) ...how

(1:50) LMAO I KNEW IT

(1:51) how did you know?

(1:53) intuition ;P

(1:55) how did you really?

(1:57) not telling!

(2:12) .....iwa-chan??

(2:15) IIIIIWA-CHAN

(2:16) be quiet, i’m in class

\--

(2:30) it was ur tone btw

(2:31) u only get than tone when it comes to ushiwaka

(2:31) and me

\--

(3:02) it was a text message. how did you read tone from that?

(3:03) iwa-chan im insulted

(3:05) i could read tone from u blowing ur nose

(3:06) jesus christ

(3:07) WHAT

(3:07) WERE BEST FRIENDS RIGHT??

(3:08) DON’T YOU HAVE CLASS, OIKAWA

(3:09) yeah so?

(3:15) i hope you fail

(3:16) rude!!!

(3:17) anyway, what did ushiwaka want

(3:19) to buy me coffee, apparently

(3:25) oikawa?

(3:25) coffee???? WHY

(3:27) he wanted to be “friends”

(3:28) oh wow look at those salty quotes

(3:29) i take it u said no

(3:32) you could say that

(3:33) good

(3:34) be petty iwa-chan its freeing

(3:35) pay attention to your professor oikawa

(3:40) i knew u didnt want me to fail

(3:41) yeah whatever

(3:43) <3

—

(4:30) i only get that tone with you and him, huh?

(4:34) yup!!

(4:35) guess u have a type ;)

(4:36) guess i do

(4:38) :O

(4:38) shit

(4:39) i dont know whether to be flattered or horrified ur comparing to me to ushiwaka

(4:50) YOU FUCKING DID IT FIRST

(4:51) omg iwa-chan how childish

(4:53) i thought u didnt want to be friends with him!! do u LIKE ushiwaka now iwa-chan??? do u want to kiss him???

(4:52) oh my god shut the fuck up

(4:52) DONT HIDE FROM UR FEELINGS IWA-CHAN

(4:54) GOODBYE OIKAWA

 

He’s off-balance for the rest of the day. Anatomy is on Mondays and Wednesdays, so Iwaizumi doesn’t have to see Ushijima until after the weekend, but nonetheless he can’t stop thinking about him for the rest of the week. Why would he want to be friends? Did Ushijima Wakatoshi even _have_ friends? Did he even have feelings?

No, wait, that was...cruel. Of course he had feelings; if nothing else, he’d looked pretty shocked Wednesday at the coffee shop.

But still, friends? Ushijima had barely ever talked to him in high school. He was more focused on Oikawa than anyone else; Iwaizumi just happened to be in Oikawa’s general vicinity more often than not.

Oh. Wait. Oikawa, of course. Now that Oikawa’s at a university farther away, it’s not easy for Ushijima to get information on him. That’s probably why he wants to be “friends” with Iwaizumi: not for Iwaizumi himself, but for the connection.

Well, it does kind of make sense? Although it is a little creepy. Whatever, he already told Ushijima no, so it’s a moot point anyway. And Ushijima doesn’t talk to him at all on Monday, so it looks like everything’s back to normal.

But then, at the end of next Wednesday's class, Ushijima asks, “Did you take notes last lecture?”

“Yes,” Iwaizumi says suspiciously. “Why?”

Ushijima shrugs. “I need them.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “Obviously, I meant why do you need them? Didn’t you take your own notes?”

There--something that resembles a frown pulls down the corners of Ushijima’s mouth. “I did, but they weren’t very good. I was...” His eyes cut to the side. “Distracted.”

He looks almost upset, and Iwaizumi paused in zipping up his backpack. “Hey,” he says. “Everything okay?”

Ushijima blinks, and just like that, he’s unreadable again. “Yes,” he said. “I was just preoccupied that day, so I was hoping I could borrow your notes. If not, I can just ask someone else.”

“No, no, wait—” Iwaizumi says. “Sorry. Here.” He pulls out his pen. “What’s your email, I’ll send them to you.”

Ushijima tilts his head. “Don’t you take your notes by hand?”

“It’s fine,” Iwaizumi says, “I’ll just type them up. It’s not a problem.”

“Will you go for coffee with me again?” Ushijima asks, and Iwaizumi stares, thrown. “I’ll type them up myself while we’re there, and I’ll pay. As thanks.”

“You don’t have to—” Iwaizumi says.

“As thanks,” Ushijima repeats stubbornly.

When they get to the coffee shop--the same one—and Iwaizumi is about to take his first sip of his coffee, Ushijima says, “Wait. I lied.”

Iwaizumi stares at him. “Lied? About what?”

“The coffee isn’t just a thank you.” Ushijima moves his stir stick around in his coffee. On anyone else, Iwaizumi would say it was a nervous tic.

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “Ushijima, I told you I don’t think we can be—”

“It’s also an apology.”

Ushijima looks up at him, eyes intense. Iwaizumi clears his throat.

“An apology?”

He nods. “For making you think I didn’t respect you.”

“You don’t respect me,” Iwaizumi says. “You’ve made that pretty clear.”

“I...” Ushijima says. “It wasn’t how I really felt.”

Iwaizumi crosses his arms. “So how did you really feel, then?”

Ushijima bites his lip, as vulnerable as Iwaizumi has ever seen him. “I do respect you. Quite a bit. I think you’re an admirable ace, but...even more than that, you were an excellent vice captain.”

It’s incredibly high praise coming from someone who only ever states facts. “Wow,” Iwaizumi says, despite himself, then shakes himself mentally. “Wait, if you really think that, why were you always such a jerk to me--and to Oikawa?”

At Oikawa’s name, Ushijima flinches.

Iwaizumi exhales sharply. “So that’s it, then. It was always Oikawa, wasn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you—”

“You don’t actually want to be friends, do you?” he says tiredly. He’d expected this, so he’s not sure why he’s getting upset but...it stings, anyway. “It’s just because Oikawa’s my best friend, and you’re still obsessed with him.”

Ushijima hits the table. “That’s not true.”

The coffee shop is noisy enough that only the table next to them hears, but the girls there look at them askance and start whispering.

“Sorry,” Iwaizumi calls to them.

He turns back to Ushijima. “Don’t yell,” he says tightly. “Besides. Of course it’s true.”

“It’s not,” Ushijima insists. “It hasn’t been true since we graduated high school. You’re right, that I used to be...preoccupied with Oikawa.” His finger is absently tracing an invisible pattern on the tabletop, and Iwaizumi frowns, an old suspicion rearing its head in the back of his mind. “I never thought Aoba Johsai was a bad team. I’ll admit, I thought my team was better, and I thought I was better, but doesn’t everyone?”

Iwaizumi nods. “Okay, I’ll agree with that. But if you didn’t think we were bad, why did you keep telling us how inferior we were?”

“I was angry. Because I--I wanted him. Oikawa.”

There it is. Confirmation of what Iwaizumi has suspected for a long time. “Ushijima,” he says. “I’m sorry to ask this, but I need to know: are you in love with Oikawa?”

Ushijima’s eyes widen. “I meant I wanted him to play with me, as my setter.”

“I knew what you meant,” Iwaizumi says carefully. “But that doesn’t really answer my question.”

“No,” Ushijima says, his deep, solid voice wavering. “I’m not.”

“But you liked him.” It’s not a question. “Do you still like him?”

Ushijima stares at him, which is an answer in and of itself.

“Right,” Iwaizumi says, and moves to get out of the booth. “I don’t think we need to talk about this anymore.”

“Wait,” Ushijima says, arm whipping out to snatch at Iwaizumi’s wrist. “I told you that I always admired you as a vice-captain, and it’s true. I always admired you as a player, and, to be honest, as a person. My feelings for--about Oikawa aside,” and wow, that’s practically a confession, “this isn’t about him. This is about me and _you_.”

Iwaizumi flexes his wrist in Ushijima’s grasp, and Ushijima drops it like he’s been scalded. “You really want to be friends?” he asks.

“Yes,” Ushijima says, as serious as ever. Iwaizumi makes a split-second decision.

“Fine,” he says. “But you’re going to have to actually act like you want to be friends instead of just saying it. That means you’re going to do most of the work. Okay?”

Ushijima nods. “Okay.”

 

It starts with exchanging phone numbers, which, Ushijima says, will “strengthen our relationship through more frequent communication.”

Iwaizumi makes a face. “Sure, but--texting? Really?” It just feels weird, to be communicating with Ushijima through the same medium he communicates with Oikawa.

Well, and his other friends. Which, he supposes, is Ushijima’s point. Ugh.

“Do we have to,” he says, uncharacteristically whiny, and Ushijima frowns.

“You cannot expect a plant to flower if you do not nurture it,” he says, and Iwaizumi grits his teeth.

“Fine,” he says, and opens up his contacts. “Give me your number.”

He gets a text later that day.

(4:51) Hello, Iwaizumi. How was your day?

He smiles, despite himself.

(4:53) you text like an old man

He waits.

(4:57) I've been told it suits my ‘aesthetic’.

Iwaizumi laughs, too loud in the confined space of his dorm room. A joke! He switches to his conversation with Oikawa and sends:

(4:59) um i think ushiwaka made a joke

(5:01) wtf

(5:01) i know

(5:03) i cant handle this

(5:04) bye

Another text comes in from Ushijima.

(5:06) So?

(5:07) You didn’t tell me how your day went.

(5:09) it was fine. busy

(5:11) I had assumed you were always busy.

(5:12) well you assumed correctly

(5:13) for once

(5:16) Is this another remark about my failures in sportsmanship during high school?

(5:17) yeah

(5:18) Well, I am glad at least I seem to be improving.

Iwaizumi’s mouth curls into a smile, again, and he presses his hand to it in consternation. What the hell.

A buzz: from Oikawa again.

(5:20) wait what kind of joke

(5:21) i thought you couldn’t handle it?

(5:21) shut up

(5:22) iwa-chan what kind of joke

(5:22) WAIT

Oikawa’s dumb face pops up on his screen with an incoming call. “Oikawa, why are you calling me.”

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, ignoring him. “Why is Ushiwaka telling you jokes?”

“Um,” Iwaizumi says.

“Iiiiwa-chan,” Oikawa says, and Iwaizumi caves.

“I, uh.” He bites his lip. “I gave him my number.”

“You _what_ ,” Oikawa yells. “Why! When!”

“Today,” Iwaizumi says. “He asked.”

“And you _gave it to him_?”

Iwaizumi shrugs even though he knows Oikawa can’t see him. “I mean, we’re in the same class. It makes sense to get contact info. You know, for...studying purposes.”

“ _Studying_ ,” Oikawa says, and Iwaizumi really wishes he would stop talking in italics.

“Yes! Also, well. Like I said...”

“Uh-huh.”

“He wanted to be friends?”

“Wait, is that still happening? Iwa-chan, no, love yourself.”

Iwaizumi sighs. “Come on Oikawa, give him a break, he’s not actually that bad.”

There’s silence on the other end and then: “Iwa-chan, have you been replaced by aliens? You can tell me, I promise not to get too excited.”

“No, Oikawa, ugh,” Iwaizumi groans. “I’m being serious.”

“Me too,” Oikawa says, loudly, “I’m serious! You can tell me!”

“ _Oikawa_ ,” Iwaizumi snaps, annoyed.

Oikawa pauses. “Hey,” he says, voice hesitant, “everything okay?”

Iwaizumi sighs. “Yeah, sorry,” he says. “I just--he’s not actually that bad, I promise.”

“Hmm,” Oikawa says, but he doesn’t sound convinced. “Okay. And he’s...texting you?”

“Yeah.”

“Ushiwaka. Texting you...jokes?”

“Yep. And he hasn’t even told me once that you should’ve gone to Shiratorizawa.”

Oikawa lets out a startled cackle on the other end. “Asshole,” he says. “I can’t believe he doesn’t want me anymore.”

It’s a joke, it’s _obviously_ a joke, but Iwaizumi flushes hot, anyway. He has the sudden urge to tell Oikawa about the conversation he had with Ushijima, about how Ushijima has been halfway in love with him for years. But he doesn’t. He shouldn’t, it’s not his secret to tell. He laughs, belatedly, and waits for Oikawa to call him out on it. But if Oikawa noticed, he doesn’t say anything.

Iwaizumi’s phone beeps against his ear, probably with another text from Ushijima, but he ignores it, for now.

“Hey,” he says to Oikawa. “You should call more often.”

“Maybe _you_ should call more often!” Oikawa says, mock-upset. “You know how lonely I get.”

Iwaizumi snorts. “Yeah, right. I know you, it’s been what, a month? You’ve probably already got a fan club.”

“Maaaaybe,” Oikawa says sweetly, “but how does anyone else matter when I don’t have my number one?”

Iwaizumi shuts his eyes, shifting abruptly from wry amusement to embarrassed pleasure. “Tooru,” he says weakly, “you can’t just say shit like that.”

Oikawa hums happily in his ear, and Iwaizumi leans back into his pillows and relaxes.

(At the end of their call, Oikawa says. “Seriously. I’m being serious now. Okay? You see that I’m being serious?”

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi warns.

“Call me more often, Hajime,” Oikawa says.

“You call me more often,” Iwaizumi says. “You’re my setter--aren’t you supposed to anticipate my needs before I have them?”)

 

Iwaizumi drops his pen at the beginning of the next class. Before he can retrieve it, though, Ushijima is already bending down to reach for it.

“Here you go,” he says, as matter-of-fact as ever. But he goes so far as to wipe the pen off with the edge of his shirt before handing it back.

“Thanks,” Iwaizumi says. Their fingers brush.

He’d write it off as a fluke, except the next Wednesday is abnormally hot, and the air-conditioning is broken in the building, causing all the classrooms to be stifling. By the time the professor calls a mid-lecture break, Iwaizumi is sweating and in the process of rolling his sleeves up to his elbow.

“Take a moment,” the professor says. “Get some water.”

His water bottle is empty, and he rises with half the class to fill it, but Ushijima stops him with a hand to his shoulder. “I’ll get it for you,” he says. “I’m going to the vending machine anyway.”

“Okay,” Iwaizumi says. “Um, thanks.”

Ushijima inclines his head in acknowledgement. He pauses for a moment, eyes seeming to catch on Iwaizumi’s forearms, and then he jerks himself away. Iwaizumi waits until he leaves to pull out his phone and text Oikawa.

(11:31) ushijima’s being weird

(11:32) weirder than normal

He slides his phone back into his pocket when Ushijima arrives, Iwaizumi’s filled water bottle held with two fingers. He has two Pocari Sweat in his other hand.

“I bought an extra,” Ushijima says. “On accident.”

It’s so clearly a lie that Iwaizumi opens his mouth to protest. Before he can, however, Ushijima drops the Pocari Sweat and water bottle decisively on Iwaizumi’s desk, brooking no argument.

“Uh...okay,” Iwaizumi says. “Thanks. Again.”

“Hmm,” Ushijima says, leaning his head back to take a drink. Iwaizumi narrows his eyes at his bared throat.

Testing a theory, at the end of class he packs up in a rush, leaving his jacket on the back of his seat in his “hurry.”

“Sorry,” he lies, when Ushijima glances at him curiously. “I have somewhere to be.” He doesn’t, but he need to see if his theory holds up. As he exits the classroom, he sees Ushijima’s eyes snap to the jacket. He opens his mouth, but Iwaizumi is already gone.

He goes to the library, killing time. He only means to spend an hour or so there, but he loses track of time while studying. By the time he glances at his phone, it’s 2:00 PM, he has three unread text messages from Oikawa, and he’s starving.

“Shit,” Iwaizumi says, and jogs back to his dorm.

Except--he arrives to find Ushijima outside his room, sitting on the ground with his back against the wall.

“What are you doing here?” Iwaizumi asks.

“You left this,” Ushijima says, closing the book he was reading and holding up Iwaizumi’s jacket. “In class.”

“I know,” Iwaizumi says, “I--was going to go back there later today.” _If you didn’t bring it to me_ , he thinks. “Did you come here just for that?”

Ushijima blinks at him, surprised. Shit, he was probably too brusque.

“I mean,” he says, “you didn’t have to come all this way. Why didn’t you text me?”

“You seemed busy,” Ushijima says. “You were in a hurry, I didn’t want to bother you. It was nothing.”

“It was not nothing,” Iwaizumi chides, starting to feel guilty despite himself. He had sort of expected Ushijima would retrieve his jacket for him--it fit the pattern of his previous behavior--but he didn’t expect Ushijima would wait for two hours outside his dorm room to give it to him. “Have you eaten?”

“No.”

“God,” Iwaizumi says, “you must be starving. Why didn’t you eat?”

“I was bringing you your jacket,” Ushijima says slowly, like Iwaizumi is being dense.

Iwaizumi lets out a sharp breath. “Okay,” he says, “come with me, we’re going to get something to eat.”

They go get ramen. Iwaizumi pays for both of them, silencing Ushijima’s protests with a stern glare. “As thanks,” he says, an echo of a previous conversation, and Ushijima shuts up.

He pouts, though, for almost five minutes. It’s a ridiculous and out of place expression on him, and Iwaizumi laughs in his face.

They sit and chat for nearly three hours, and by the time Iwaizumi gets home, he has another four unread texts from Oikawa, and a missed call.

First, before reading them, he sends to Ushijima:

(5:05) hey, when i said you had to do most of the work in this friendship, i didn’t mean you had to keep doing things for me

(5:06) What do you mean?

(5:08) i know you didn’t buy that second pocari sweat on accident, ushijima

(5:09) You’re right. But it isn’t because I think I have to.

(5:09) ok then why

(5:10) I just want to.

(5:12) you...want to do nice things for me?

(5:12) Yes.

(5:13) I like it.

Iwaizumi shivers, and then wants to smack himself. He opens up Oikawa’s texts.

(12:17) weird how

(12:24) iiiiwa-chan

(12:27) u cant just say that and then not elaborate

(4:31) IWA-CHAN R U ALIVE

(4:45) jfc iwa-chan if u let ushiwaka kill u im going to be pissed

(4:51) dont make me come over there

(4:53) ill do it i swear

And one other, which must have come in when he was texting Ushijima.

(5:14) seriously, are you ok?

Oh shit. Punctuation _and_ proper spelling. He hits ‘Call’.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says when he picks up. He’s noticeably breathless.

“I’m fine,” Iwaizumi replies. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

“Ha,” Oikawa scoffs, voice smoothing over into his normal carefree tone. “I wasn’t worried.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “You’re an idiot,” he says. “Anyway, I’m fine, I was studying, I didn’t look at my phone.”

“For five hours?”

“I, uh, also went to lunch,” Iwaizumi adds. “With Ushijima.”

“Uh, was it as frustrating and mind-numbingly boring as I think?”

Iwaizumi snorts. “Nah, it was actually not too bad. He’s a funny guy, if you get him in the right mindset.”

“Yeah, Ushijima, funny, sure.” Oikawa scoffs, but it’s good-natured. “Oh wait--right, I forgot he’s apparently texting you _jokes_ now.”

Iwaizumi, despite his better judgment, finds himself about to open his mouth to defend Ushijima, when Oikawa lets out a surprised noise.

“Ah,” he says, “my mom is calling me. I gotta go. Bye, Iwa-chan, love you!”

Iwaizumi sighs. Just in time to save him from embarrassing himself. “Say hi to her for me--I love you too.”

 

“May I ask you a question, Iwaizumi?” Ushijima asks at the end of the next class.

He asks it politely, and Iwaizumi’s accidentally begun to grow fond of him, so he says, “Yeah, sure.”

“Why are you not on the volleyball team?”

Iwaizumi freezes, notebook in hand. Slowly, he slips it into his bag, taking the time to think of a response. “It...I wasn’t scouted.”

“At all?” Ushijima sounds disbelieving, which is flattering, at least.

“Well, no, I was scouted,” Iwaizumi clarifies, “but not by this university. They didn’t need me, I think.” He looks up. “Especially not if they have you.”

Ushijima frowns. “I don’t understand, were you not approached by any good teams?”

“I was,” Iwaizumi says. “But...” He sighs. “Did you know this school has the best sports medicine program in the country?”

Ushijima nods. Of course he does. “Yes,” he says. “I was aware.”

“I had to make a decision,” Iwaizumi explains. “Between playing volleyball during college and maybe getting a professional career out of it, or following my other dream.”

“Sports medicine is your dream?”

Iwaizumi shrugs. “Yeah, pretty much. It’s the only thing I could picture myself doing. Other than playing volleyball. Sometimes _more_ than playing volleyball.”

“You’re good enough to play professionally, though,” Ushijima presses.

“I know,” Iwaizumi says. “I know I am. But it would have been a risk, and it would have meant pouring my entire life into just volleyball. I know some people are willing to do that; you are, Oikawa is. But I wasn’t.”

Ushijima nods. “Okay,” he says. “Can I ask another question?”

Iwaizumi laughs. “Can’t be harder to answer than the last one,” he jokes.

“Did you choose sports medicine because of Oikawa?”

Because of Oikawa. “His knee, you mean?”

“Yes.”

It’s a legitimate question, when you know how close Iwaizumi and Oikawa are. Ushijima knows that better than most, has seen them constantly since they were young, since even before Oikawa hurt his knee.

There’s a loud noise, and Iwaizumi startles, looking up to see that they’re the only ones left in the room. The next class is about to start.

“Not everything is about Oikawa,” he says flippantly.

Ushijima raises his eyebrows, like he doesn’t believe him.

“Ugh,” Iwaizumi says. “Fine, come on. Let’s get coffee.”

 

Ushijima refuses to let him pay for his own coffee.

“Please stop,” Iwaizumi says. “I can pay for myself.”

“I asked you the question,” Ushijima insists, counting out the money. “I inconvenienced you.”

Iwaizumi thinks of Ushijima wanting to do nice things for him, thinks of him saying _i like it_. He gives in. “Fine,” he says, “but you’re wasting your money.”

“It’s fine,” Ushijima says. “I don’t really spend money on things that aren’t worthwhile, anyway.”

Does that mean that he considers Iwaizumi to be worthwhile?

When they’re settled at a table—the same booth by the window they sat at before—Ushijima doesn’t wait long before asking, “So?”

“So?” Iwaizumi repeats, trying his best to delay.

Ushijima presses his lips together, actually seeming truly irritated for once. “Iwaizumi.”

Iwaizumi exhales, staring at his mug. It’s ceramic, not a to-go cup; they’d given up any pretense of this being a quick thing.

“Okay,” he says. “To answer your question: yes and no.”

“That...doesn’t answer my question,” Ushijima says, and Iwaizumi rolls his eyes.

“God, you’re nosy, aren’t you?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be—”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Iwaizumi sighs. “It’s a valid question. No, I’m not doing sports medicine because of Oikawa, but yes, I first thought of it as an option because of him.”

“Because of—”

“His knee, yeah,” Iwaizumi says. “But like, also because I just worry about him, in general. He’s my best friend. He’s not as careless as you think--he takes his health seriously, he always does what doctors tell him to do, he wouldn’t risk his career for anything--but he doesn’t pay as much attention as he should, and he never does any research for himself. So I started doing it for him.”

“And you liked it.”

“I was _good_ at it.” A little pride enter Iwaizumi’s tone, and he lets it. “Enough that everyone on the team, even our senpais, came to me for advice on training and injuries. When we were third years, Oikawa was our strategist, but I helped coach keep everyone safe.”

Ushijima tilts his head in that way of his. “I can imagine that,” he says. “Like I said before, you were an excellent vice-captain.”

Iwaizumi straightens in his chair. “Thanks, Ushijima,” he replies with a smile, and he means it.

Ushijima gives him a wide-eyed look, and averts his eyes, studying his coffee mug. On closer inspection, his cheeks look a little red.

...huh.

 

“This is, what, your third coffee date?” Oikawa asks, when Iwaizumi picks up the phone back in his dorm room.

“You didn’t have to call me,” Iwaizumi responds, even though he’s thinking a petulant _they weren’t dates_. “You could have just texted back.”

“No, no, this is definitely a phone call type of conversation. He bought you coffee for the third time?”

Iwaizumi fidgets. “Fourth,” he says. There had been one in the middle when Ushijima had wanted ‘help’ with an assignment. In hindsight, it had been kind of a flimsy reason. They had barely talked about anatomy. In fact, they had barely talked at all. Iwaizumi had worked on his laptop and Ushijima had read a book, occasionally glancing at him, as usual. It had been actually...nice.

“Ushiwaka bought you _four_ cups of coffee? And you bought him lunch? If you don’t watch out, he’s going to try to date you.”

Iwaizumi coughs, and the other line goes abruptly silent. Shit.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, in his sweetest voice, “does Ushiwaka-chan have a crush on you.”

“I...don’t think so?” Iwaizumi says, but he doesn’t even really convince himself.

There’s a light _thud_ , and then a distant “OH MY GOD.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “Did you _drop your phone_?” he asks. “Don’t be so melodramatic, Shittykawa.”

“Melodramatic!” Oikawa shouts, still apparently without picking the phone up, which is probably better for Iwaizumi’s ears. “I can’t believe our biggest enemy has a crush on you!” Which isn’t really disproving the ‘melodramatic’ point. Iwaizumi makes another split-second decision to never tell Oikawa that Ushijima likes him. “Did you turn him down?”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Iwaizumi says. “Hold on a second. I’m not even sure he likes me yet, he was just acting kind of weird today. He hasn’t said anything, so I’m not going to either.”

“Okay, but,” Oikawa says in a more normal tone, picking up his phone. “When you _are_ sure, you will turn him down, right?”

“ _If_ I’m ever convinced he has a crush on me,” Iwaizumi says, and god, he can’t believe he just said that, “I’ll turn him down, yes.”

Oikawa huffs. “Good,” he says, “because I don’t want to be replaced by Ushiwaka.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “Idiot,” he says, “no one’s going to replace you.”

There’s a pause, and then: “Love you too, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi stifles a smile. “Yeah, whatever,” he says, and hangs up on Oikawa, ignoring his indignant squawk.

 

He calls Oikawa back an hour later. “Okay, but he’s actually been being really nice and it’s kind of freaking me out.”

“Oh?” Oikawa asks, thankfully not teasing him for calling back so soon. “Is this what you meant last week by, and I quote, ‘weirder than normal’?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Iwaizumi replies. “Little, weird things, like...I don’t know.” He recaps Ushijima’s strange behavior, from the pen to the jacket, and waits for Oikawa’s response.

The silence on the other end is deafening.

“Oikawa?”

Oikawa bursts into laughter. “Oh my god!” he says. “He’s wooing you, I can’t believe this!”

“He is _not_ ,” Iwaizumi protests automatically. But when he thinks back on it...

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says. “He bought you coffee, he’s doing nice things for you, and you’re eating meals together!”

“ _One_ lunch, that I bought!”

“Oh, really?”

Iwaizumi bites his lip. “Well...to thank him for doing something nice for me.”

“And? What was that?”

He tells him about leaving his jacket in class, about Ushijima taking it all the way across campus and sitting outside his door for hours to give it to him. Oikawa laughs, and laughs, and laughs, the ugly cackling laughter that means he’s genuinely overcome with amusement. Iwaizumi, unable to help himself, dissolves into laughter, too.

“Shut up,” he says, gasping, “stop laughing!”

“You’re laughing too!” Oikawa points out. “And it’s hilarious, because it’s weird as fuck.”

“It is,” Iwaizumi says, “but—” He stifles one last laugh and forces himself to slow his breathing. “But we shouldn’t laugh, it’s mean.”

“Why, because you don’t like him?” Oikawa asks.

“Of--of course not,” Iwaizumi says. “Like you even have to ask!”

Oikawa scoffs. “Iwa-chan,” he says. “Don’t be silly. You can’t lie to me.”

“I _don’t_ like him,” Iwaizumi says firmly. “I’m just...starting to think that I might actually like hanging out with him. You know...as a friend.”

“...okay,” Oikawa says.

He takes a breath, and the easy, playful mood they had vanishes. “If that changes, if--if you like him--or anyone...you’ll tell me?” His voice sounds abruptly, painfully vulnerable.

Iwaizumi exhales. “Now who’s being silly? You know I wouldn’t date anyone without telling you. You’re my number one, right?”

There’s a sound on the other end, like Oikawa has swallowed, hard. “Still? Even though I’m all the way out here?”

“Hey,” Iwaizumi says, soft. “Come on.”

Oikawa laughs, and if it sounds a little watery, neither of them feel the need to mention it. “Yeah, okay,” he says. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too. A lot.” Iwaizumi’s hand clenches in his bedspread. His throat is tight. “Did you get your practice match schedule yet?”

It’s not as sudden a subject change as it seems. “Yeah. We’re coming there in two months.”

“Just two months.” Iwaizumi makes his voice as reassuring as he can. “We’ll talk then, okay?”

“Talk?” Oikawa asks nervously.

“A good talk,” Iwaizumi insists. At least, he hopes it will be. It’s something they probably should have talked about before, but they never really needed to until now. Everything just...fit, automatically. Everything went so smoothly.

But now that they’re miles apart, it’s not as easy. Nothing is automatic, which means.

Which means they need to have an actual conversation about their relationship, and what it means.

 

The weekend finds Iwaizumi heading to the gymnasium, where he knows the volleyball team is holding practice.

He gets there early enough that the team is only now filtering into the gym. Ushijima isn't among them, which means he's still in the locker room—probably for the best, since Iwaizumi isn't here for him.

The coaches are already sitting on the bench, huddled around a clipboard. Iwaizumi walks up and clears his throat.

“Excuse me,” he says, when they look up. He bows. “I'm Iwaizumi Hajime. I called last week?”

“Ah, yes,” the head coach, Kanzaki says. “The sports medicine student, correct?”

“Yes, Coach,” Iwaizumi confirms. “I was hoping I could speak to you about any opportunities you have to work with your team.”

The coach smiles, a sly thing that reminds him of so many other coaches he’s known. “I remember.” He introduces the assistant coaches, Takeuchi and Sato. “What kind of work are you looking to do?”

“I’m going into sports medicine and I'm looking for some practical experience, so anything involving the health and wellness of the team,” Iwaizumi says. “Nutrition, stretching, things like that. Even just the opportunity to watch or assist the doctors you already have would be wonderful.”

Coach Kanzaki chuckles. “We might have something for you to do,” he says. Something behind Hajime catches his eye, and his grin widens. “Why don't you start by watching the team warm up, and write down any suggestions you have?”

Iwaizumi turns around, and sure enough, the entire team is circled up, listening to one player--their captain, probably, attentively. He catches himself looking for Ushijima, and mentally smacks himself.

Then, what the coach said catches up with him.

“Really?” he asks, willing himself to not sound too overjoyed. “Thank you, Coach!”

“Don't thank me yet,” the coach says. “Consider it a trial run.” He hums for a moment. “Do you have experience with volleyball, Iwaizumi?”

Iwaizumi bites back a smile. “Yes, sir,” he says.

The coach doesn't look surprised. “Good.”

 

College volleyball teams practice in much of the same ways that elite high school teams do, but everything is _more_. The players all have an air of barely bridled intensity about them, even when they're laughing and clapping each other on the backs before their captain leads them into their warm-ups.

All of them perform their exercises as if from a textbook--including Ushijima, for the most part.

Iwaizumi catches sight of him halfway through the warm-up period, as the team jogs around the gym. As usual, Ushijima demonstrates the sheer power of his physique by outstripping most of his teammates. But...not all of them, which is interesting.

Ushijima catches sight of _him_ soon after, as the team runs by the coaches’ bench. Most of the players either look at Iwaizumi quizzically or ignored him, but Ushijima begins to slow down, almost like he’s going to stop.

Iwaizumi frowns at him, and Ushijima stumbles.

“Hey,” Coach Sato calls. “Careful, Ushijima!”

Ushijima huffs out a breath and speeds up to faster than his original pace.

“How strange,” Takeuchi remarks. “Normally he's so focused.”

 _Oops_ , Iwaizumi thinks.

The rest of the time goes about the way Iwaizumi expected, though he comes away with a few suggestions written down. Mostly they involve newer exercises that he's read about that could be rotated in with some of the old ones, to reduce strain and things like that. He does, however, also have written down, _Remember left-handed players,_ because he knows that forcing a left-handed person to do the exact same motions as a right-handed person can cause unfair disadvantages. He tells himself it has nothing to do with Shiratorizawa’s former lefty ace.

“Hmm,” the coach says when Iwaizumi hands the notebook over. “Not bad.” He smiles up at Iwaizumi. “Let's give it a shot.”

Iwaizumi gapes. “Seriously?”

“Yep,” Coach Kanzaki says. “We're not paying you, though.”

“Of course,” Iwaizumi agrees.

“But because of that, you have no responsibility to the team, either,” Kanzaki continues. “Come when we really need you; other than that, come whenever you can.” He smiles. “Welcome to the team.”

Iwaizumi bows, low. “Thank you very much!”

“You're welcome,” the coach says. “Now--we're hosting another team for a practice match today. Would you like to stay and watch?”

 

Watching Ushijima play is a revelation. He's a first year, so he doesn't play for much of the match, but the fact that he's playing at all is amazing. However, that's not Iwaizumi is shocked by. He's shocked by his own reaction.

The first time Ushijima leaps for a spike, powerful legs curling in the jump and arm pulling back for the hit, Iwaizumi’s heart stops. Obviously he's seen it before. From the stands and from the other side of the court. But he's never seen it without the lens of competition, thrilling at Ushijima’s failings and despairing at his skill. This time, without all of that, Iwaizumi sees the volleyball come slamming down on the other side, the opponents left wide-eyed and off-kilter--and gets goosebumps.

He approaches the court after the match with the vague idea of telling Ushijima this, but then remembers two things: he's not here for Ushijima, and no one is even aware that they know each other (except maybe the head coach). Becoming part of the Ushijima Wakatoshi fan club, however belatedly, probably isn't the best way to announce that fact to the team.

So instead, Iwaizumi falls back to the edge of the court and lets Ushijima head back to the locker room with the rest of his team. He says goodbye to the coaches, thanking them again, and leaves.

But when he reaches his dorm, he has a new text:

(3:35) You were at practice today.

Iwaizumi sighs, starts to type _there's no getting past you, is there?_ but then reconsiders. It's not Ushijima’s fault that he's feeling so...weird.

(3:51) yeah, i was

The response is immediate.

(3:51) Why?

(3:53) a professor advised me to start looking for places to apply the knowledge i’ve learned, so i went to ask about helping out with the team

(3:54) With my team?

Iwaizumi bristles.

(3:55) why not, you don't own them

(3:58) I’m sorry.

(4:00) I did not mean to imply that I was upset, I was just...surprised.

(4:01) surprised why?

(4:02) You haven't seemed so interested in volleyball lately.

Iwaizumi snorts.

(4:03) dumbass, i’m always interested in volleyball

(4:04) i just needed some time to adjust to being on this side of it

(4:05) Oh.

(4:08) I think this is the first time you've called me a name.

(4:10) oh, i didn't think, i can stop if it bothers you

(4:12) No, it's perfectly fine. It's friendly, isn't it?

Iwaizumi smiles at that, remembering the other person he insults with every other breath.

(4:14) yeah, i call oikawa names all the time

(4:15) I know.

What does that mean?

(4:17) I have to go soon because the team is going out to eat. However, I did want to ask: what did you think of the practice match today?

Ah, that Iwaizumi can answer easily.

(4:18) you looked good out there

(4:19) We lost.

(4:20) you still played well

(4:21) and i meant you, specifically

There's silence for a few long minutes, and Iwaizumi gets a sudden vision of Ushijima staring at the screen, blushing lightly the way he did the other—

 _Stop that_ , he tells himself. _You said you weren't interested in him._

He's about to put away his phone when it buzzes.

(4:27) Thank you. It means a lot to me.

 

“I need your advice.”

Iwaizumi can _hear_ Oikawa’s shit-eating grin when he says, “Well, Iwa-chan, you've come to the right place! Tell Oikawa-san all your problems.”

“Ugh.” Iwaizumi grits his teeth. “Okay, look--I think Ushijima might actually like me...romantically, and the worst part is that he's actually being cute?”

“...cute how.”

“Like--I don't know.” Iwaizumi scratches the back of his neck. “He keeps blushing and getting distracted around me. The other day at practice I think I caught him staring at my arms.”

Oikawa barks out a laugh. “Well, that's understandable at least.”

Iwaizumi bites his lip against a smile. “Shut up,” he says. “What do I do?”

“You said...you don't like him back?”

“No, I don't.” _Or, at least. I'm pretty sure I don't._

“All right, then. There's only one thing for you to do.”

“Okay, what's that?”

“Crush his cute little heart, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi waits a long moment, and then hangs up.

(3:21) rude!!! i just answered ur question!!

(3:22) i don't even know why i called you

(3:23) well who else were u gonna call

It's a good question. Who else _could_ he ask for advice about Ushijima Wakatoshi?

Wait.

Who knew how to handle socially awkward volleyball geniuses?

 

The phone rings twice before someone picks up. “Hello?”

Iwaizumi winces. Ah, shit. “Kageyama,” he says, trying to sound confident and put-together.

“...Iwaizumi-senpai?”

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Um...why are you picking up Hinata’s phone?”

“He's in the shower,” Kageyama says. Then, hastily, he adds, “Uh, I'm at his house. Um. Studying.”

Wow, that's way more than Iwaizumi needed to know about that.

“...okay, I'm going to call back later,” he says.

“No, wait, he's back.” There’s a sound like he's covered the phone, and then, muffled: “Oi, Hinata, Iwaizumi-san is on the phone for you!” He returns. “Why are you calling Hinata?”

“Um,” is all Iwaizumi gets out before there's sounds of a struggle on the other line.

“Iwaizumi-san!” Hinata sounds breathless, and Iwaizumi _really_ didn't need to know that. “What can I do for you?”

“I,” Iwaizumi says, and clears his throat again. “I need to ask you about something.”

 

Iwaizumi gets the advice to “be really mean to him and then suddenly be really nice to him,” because “it worked with Kageyama.” Kageyama makes noises of protest, but doesn't deny it.

He does, however, say, “Iwaizumi-senpai...what about Oikawa-san?”

“What about him?”

“Aren't you...you know...” That's Hinata, now. This is abruptly turning into the most awkward conversation Iwaizumi’s ever had. He covers his face with one hand.

Kageyama takes over: “Aren't you together?”

“Ah...” Iwaizumi shrugs even though they can't see him. “Kind of?”

“Then, why are you asking how to date Ushiwaka?” Hinata, again.

Once Iwaizumi--embarrassment burning in his stomach--explains that he _isn't_ trying to date Ushijima, actually, he just wants to handle this _delicately_ , he gets a...slightly better answer.

“Oh,” Kageyama says, deadpan. “Delicately. You don't want Hinata, then.”

“Hey!” Hinata shouts, and there's sounds of a scuffle again.

“Guys,” Iwaizumi says.

“Oh, sorry!” Hinata says. “No, he's right, you want Suga-senpai for that.”

Iwaizumi sighs. “No, I don’t want to involve anyone else.”

“You can trust Sugawara-san,” Kageyama says. “He helped us with—”

“Yeah, no,” Iwaizumi says. “It’s fine. I’ll figure it out myself.”

There’s a quiet moment where he imagines twin quizzical looks being directed at the phone. “But...why,” Hinata says.

Iwaizumi fidgets. “I don’t know, I just don’t want to tell anyone else about it. It’s private. Ushijima deserves better than that. And besides, it just feels...too important.”

“Private,” Kageyama repeats.

“Important,” Hinata echoes. “Iwaizumi-san...”

“...are you _sure_ you don’t want to be dating Ushijima-san?” If what they were saying weren’t so disheartening, Iwaizumi would be charmed by them finishing each other’s sentences.

But there’s a sinking feeling in his stomach, now, as he thinks about the answer to that question. As he thinks about whether he really wants to let Ushijima down slowly, or even if he wants to ignore it--or if he wants something else.

Fuck. He and Oikawa really need to talk.

 

“Hey, it’s me. Nothing’s wrong, but whenever you get a chance, we should talk. I promise nothing’s wrong, it’s what we were going to talk about when you come here, just...moved up a bit. Okay, I have to go to practice now, but I’ll talk to you tonight? Love you.”

 

“Iwaizumi, is something wrong?”

He looks up at Ushijima, who’s just been rotated out of the three-on-three practice. Ushijima, standing there drinking water, looks down at him with concern. Iwaizumi curls his hands into loose fists around his clipboard. “Nothing’s wrong,” he says.

“Are you sure? You seem distracted.”

Shit. Iwaizumi shakes his head. “I said nothing’s wrong, Ushijima.” It’s too standoffish, probably, but he _really_ can’t have this conversation without talking to Oikawa first. “You should get back to practice.”

Ushijima frowns, so Iwaizumi adds, “You’re tensing up a little when you receive. If you’re not careful, you’ll strain something.” That does the trick: Ushijima is now frowning for a different reason, and heads over to the coaches on the other side of the bench to talk about individual practice.

 

The walk back to his dorm is a little chilly, the wind sneaking cold fingers into Iwaizumi’s clothes. He’s glad; it clears his mind, helps him think.

Iwaizumi recalls the first time he’d told Oikawa he loved him. They’d been thirteen, and Oikawa had been sleeping over. They’d just turned out the light to go to bed, and Oikawa had whispered into the darkness: “Hajime, you know you’re my number one, right?”

And Iwaizumi had said back, perfectly seriously, “I love you too.”

It had been so simple, so easy, so natural--something that had carried them through the rest of middle school, all the way through high school. Through the time when Oikawa had kissed him when they were fifteen, easy as breathing, through Iwaizumi’s first girlfriend, when they had agreed, unspoken, to put a hold on the kissing and everything that came with it. Through Oikawa’s first girlfriend, and the people that came after. Through both of their first breakups, and how they had sought each other out, unconsciously, falling back into the same routine, and, eventually, falling into bed together.

It had been so easy, so easy that they’d never talked about it, except for the time Iwaizumi had said, “Hey, Tooru, what are we doing,” and Oikawa had said, “When you find someone else” with the unspoken _someone who matters_ “we’ll talk about it then.” Iwaizumi had breathed out, relieved, because he had been thinking the same thing, and hadn’t questioned how Oikawa had said _when_ you _find someone else_. Hadn’t questioned whether “talk about it” would mean putting a name to their relationship, making it official--or calling it off, altogether.

What the ease of that first confession hasn’t carried them through is separation. Distance that, without touch, nonverbal communication can’t bridge. It’s not easy, or natural, or simple, at all--the only thing that’s still easy is telling Oikawa that he loves him. They’ve avoided saying anything more than that, _talking_ about anything more than that, but.

But they can’t avoid it any longer.

 _When you find someone else_ , Oikawa had said. Iwaizumi thinks of Ushijima, and shivers.

He clutches his jacket closer to his throat now, and pushes the anxiety down. It’ll be okay. Iwaizumi’s already made up his mind; he just needs to make sure Oikawa’s on board, too.

With that in mind, he goes back to his dorm, takes his jacket off, and sits on his bed, waiting for Oikawa to call. When it happens, he picks up the phone immediately.

“Tooru,” he says. “I’ve been thinking...how do you feel about being my boyfriend?”

 

After Oikawa says yes, and cries, and Iwaizumi cries, and then they both promise to never talk about that part again, Oikawa says:

“So are you going to date Ushijima?”

“What?” Iwaizumi asks, thrown.

He can hear Oikawa’s shit-eating grin. “That’s why you had to talk about this _right now_ , right? You realized you want to date Ushijima?” Iwaizumi searches his tone, but any and all hint of jealousy and insecurity he may have had before is gone. There’s just the warmth and affection they’ve always had, but more settled.

This was a good decision.

“...maybe,” Iwaizumi says. “I don’t know. But I kept thinking about it, and I wanted to--needed to talk to you about it first.”

“I’m glad,” Oikawa replies. Iwaizumi could have skyped him, but he likes the feeling of pressing his phone up to his ear, feeling Oikawa’s voice buzz against his cheek. The warmth of the screen on his face.

(Damn, he’s turning into a sap.)

“You don’t want me to date him too, do you?”

Iwaizumi laughs, imagining it. “Let’s put a hold on that,” he says. “I do want you two to get to know each other better and put high school behind us—”

“Like I care about that anymore! I’m over it!” Oikawa sniffs.

“-- _and be mature adults_ ,” Iwaizumi finishes. “And maybe friends. And then we’ll see.”

“...okay,” Oikawa sighs. “I’ll do my best. But I’m going to be a little mean to him. I can’t help that.”

Iwaizumi gets a sudden flash of memory, Hinata saying _be really mean to him and then suddenly be really nice to him_ and says, “I think we can make that work.”

 

On Tuesday, Iwaizumi gets to the library five minutes before he’s supposed to meet Ushijima there to study. He’s not exactly surprised to see that Ushijima’s already there, leaning next to the library entrance, texting.

Iwaizumi was talking to Oikawa on the phone on the way here, so when Ushijima sees him he nods and holds up a finger, mouthing, _hold on_. “Hey, Tooru,” he says, just to see how Ushijima will react. He isn’t disappointed by the startled blink he gets in response. “I have to go, I’m at the library. I’ll call you later tonight?”

“Have fun, _Hajime_ ,” Oikawa says, voice dry and amused, and Iwaizumi knows he’s been found out. “Love you.”

Iwaizumi smiles, slow. “Love you too.” He hangs up the phone and slides it into his pocket. “Hey,” he says to Ushijima.

“Hello,” Ushijima says. Then, blunt as always: “Are you and Oikawa dating?”

“Yes,” Iwaizumi says, and he could probably try harder to keep the happiness out of his voice, but what for? “As of yesterday, that is.”

Ushijima blinks again. “You weren’t before?”

“No.” Iwaizumi scratches at the back of his neck. “Well. Kind of. It wasn’t really a...thing, until now.”

“Okay.” Ushijima nods. He tilts his head toward the entrance. “Shall we?”

Iwaizumi nods, and watches as Ushijima puts away his phone, bending down to pick up two coffees at his feet.

“You brought me coffee,” Iwaizumi says inanely. Ushijima’s gaze flickers up to him for a brief moment, then just as swiftly flickers away.

“Yes,” he says. “It was nothing.”

But the thing is--the thing Iwaizumi has started to realize--is that Ushijima doesn’t actually _like_ coffee. He always finishes his because he doesn’t like waste, but he doesn’t seem to actually enjoy it, puts too much sugar and cream into it. The coffeeshop they frequent is close to their anatomy class, but far from the library and Ushijima’s apartment. It makes sense to go there after class; it doesn’t make sense for Ushijima to go there today.

It wasn’t nothing. He got the coffee specifically for Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi feels his chest warm. “Thanks,” he says, and holds the door open for Ushijima.

 

After class the next day, Ushijima winces standing up.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Iwaizumi says, concerned.

“It’s nothing,” Ushijima says, but he hesitates slightly before putting his backpack on. He’s clearly in pain.

Iwaizumi frowns. “Is it your back?” It doesn’t look too severe, since Ushijima’s still walking around like normal, so Iwaizumi tries not to worry so much.

“My shoulder,” Ushijima says. “It isn’t strained or anything, it’s just sore.” He leaves the classroom, but Iwaizumi follows.

“I can help, if you want?”

Ushijima stares at him. “Help?”

Iwaizumi shrugs. “I’ve been picking up some massage techniques from the athletic trainers.” Ushijima continues to stare at him, until Iwaizumi says self-consciously, “Or you could go to one of the trainers.”

Ushijima averts his eyes, ears faintly red. “I might do that.”

Iwaizumi tries not to feel hurt. “Yeah, it might be awkward, right?” he says, waiting for Ushijima to say no, it’s just that the trainers are more familiar with these problems, it’s not about Iwaizumi at all.

Ushijima doesn’t reply.

 

“I’m going to take it slow,” Iwaizumi tells Oikawa, “feel it out.” Especially, he doesn’t say, because Ushijima is a lot more uncomfortable with the prospect of being touched than Iwaizumi thought.

“Okay,” Oikawa says, “but, Iwa-chan. You know Ushijima’s head is thicker than a volleyball, right?”

“Volleyballs aren’t that thick.”

“Not the point!” Oikawa huffs. “All I’m saying is that at some point you have to be clear about your intentions. Like, painfully clear. As literal as possible.”

Iwaizumi snickers, bad mood evaporating. “So like, the opposite of you, then?”

“Iwa-chan! What’s that supposed to mean!”

“Everything you say is either a proverb or a meme, Shittykawa.” He ignores Oikawa’s outraged squawk. “You’re probably still doing that thing where you narrate your matches like a supervillain when you serve.”

“...you knew about that?”

At this, Iwaizumi laughs outright. “Oh my god, you’ve been doing it since middle school, of course I knew.”

Oikawa winces audibly. “Yikes.”

“Embarrassing,” Iwaizumi agrees. “So, are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Are you still narrating your matches?”

There’s a smile in Oikawa’s voice when he says, “Yeah. It helps me focus.”

“You better do it next month, then.” Iwaizumi turns onto his side and curls around the phone. “I’m expecting to see your A-game.”

Oikawa scoffs. “Excuse me! Of course!”

Iwaizumi hums approval. “Good.”

“...wait. Does this mean you’ll be rooting for me against your own school?”

He bites back a grin. “Maybe I haven’t decided yet. Maybe Ushijima will win me over.”

“Like hell he will,” Oikawa growls, and laughter bubbles over in Iwaizumi’s throat, joyful.

 

Iwaizumi gets a text at the beginning of practice the next day from Hinata:

(4:02) how did it go with ushiwaka???

He chuckles. Typical that they wouldn’t let it go.

(4:03) i’ll tell you when it happens

(4:04) oh, i am dating oikawa now

(4:05) :O

(4:06) get it iwaizumi-san!!!

Iwaizumi chokes on his laughter. Ushijima, who must have been approaching him, looks at him quizzically.

“Iwaizumi,” he says. “Was something funny?”

“I, ha,” Iwaizumi says, taking a hysterical breath. “Just a text.”

“Oh? From who?”

Iwaizumi thinks for a moment, then shrugs internally. There’s no reason not to tell him. “From Hinata.”

Ushijima tilts his head. “Hinata Shouyo?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you give me his number?”

Iwaizumi blinks. “Hinata’s? Why?”

Ushijima shrugs. “When I faced him, I noticed he had a unique style of play. He was also there at the first-year training camp hosted at Shiratorizawa this year.” A faint smile crosses his face, and Iwaizumi stares. “I found him to have a very interesting outlook on the game. I think speaking to him more would be...beneficial. Perhaps I could offer him some advice, as well.”

Surprised--and charmed--Iwaizumi smiles. “Ushijima, you’re a good guy.”

He watches in fascination as Ushijima ducks his head to avoid his gaze.

“You’re blushing,” he teases without thinking. Ushijima fixes his wide-eyed stare on him.

“Um,” he says. Iwaizumi has never seen him so thrown. “So, will--will you give me his number?”

“I’ll ask him,” Iwaizumi says. “I think he’ll be fine with it.”

“Thank you,” Ushijima says. He clears his throat and straightens, regaining his composure. “Why do you have his number in the first place, if I may ask?”

“Ah.” Iwaizumi huffs out an embarrassed laugh. “I wanted to keep an eye on Kageyama.”

“Kageyama? Why?”

“He was my kouhai, once upon a time.” Iwaizumi smiles ruefully. “I suppose I never stopped thinking of him that way. And...”

“And?” Ushijima prompts.

Iwaizumi hesitates. “Oikawa’s good now, you know? He’s confident, sure of himself and his talent. But back then, he had a lot of insecurity he was dealing with. And Kageyama was just so _good_ , even then.”

Ushijima nods, understanding. “Oikawa was jealous.”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi sighs. “But Kageyama looked up to him a lot, so he kept trying to ask Oikawa for help, and Oikawa was...not kind, to him. They’ve buried those issues, mostly, but I think it messed Kageyama up a little. That and other things. So I worry about him, still.”

“Iwaizumi,” Ushijima says, seriously.

“Yeah?”

“You’re also...a good guy.”

Iwaizumi rubs the back of his neck, the unexpected warmth of the words running down his spine. “Thanks, Ushijima,” he says.

“Maybe...” Ushijima makes a face. “I don’t want to make them uncomfortable. But maybe I will also ask Hinata to do the same for me.”

“You have a troubled kohai you want to keep track of?” Iwaizumi laughs.

“Not troubled,” Ushijima says. “But Goshiki is sometimes wild. I think he will be fine, but it won’t hurt to check.”

Iwaizumi smiles at him. “Yeah,” he says. “I’ll definitely ask Hinata to talk to you.”

The two of them stand there for a moment, caught in each other’s gaze. And then coach blows his whistle, startling both of them.

“Practice is starting,” Iwaizumi says stupidly.

“Yes,” Ushijima says. He visibly shakes himself out of his reverie. “Thank you.” He runs off to join the rest of the team.

Iwaizumi sits down heavily on the bench. “Shit,” he says under his breath, feeling his pulse fluttering in his throat. “Wow.”

 

He texts Hinata back during practice:

(4:31) hey, can i give ushijima your number?

(4:32) uhhhhh

(4:33) sure i guess? why??

(4:35) he says he likes your view on volleyball and wants to talk to you

(4:36) and also wants you to keep an eye on someone on his team, i don’t remember his name

(4:38) lol goshiki i bet

(4:40) yeah, that was him

(4:41) LOL

(4:42) ok sure i can do that

(4:43) can you give me his number and i’ll text him?

(4:43) sure

He enters the number and sends it.

(4:45) thanks, hinata

(4:45) no problem iwaizumi-san

 

When practice ends, Iwaizumi hands his clipboard off to Coach Takeuchi, along with the observation that the captain seems to be favoring his left leg. After that, he tries to intercept Ushijima on his way to the locker room. Before he can, however, he sees someone else approach Ushijima with a loud, “Hey, Wakatoshi!”

Iwaizumi stops in his tracks. Who the hell—

Oh wait. He recognizes that hair.

“Tendou,” Ushijima says, noticeably fond, which in and of itself is a shock. “You made it.”

“I did!” Tendou Satori says, and hugs him. Ushijima doesn’t really hug back, but he accepts the embrace comfortably, smiling, like this is a normal and welcome occurrence. Huh. For some reason Iwaizumi had assumed that Ushijima wasn’t one for casual touching. Maybe he was wrong.

That’s...good to know.

 _Snap out of it_ , he tells himself, and finishes his walk toward Ushijima.

“Ushijima,” he calls. “I talked to Hinata.”

“Ah,” Ushijima says, pulling away from Tendou. “What did he say?”

“He said he’ll text you,” Iwaizumi says.

“Thank you, Iwaizumi.” Ushijima smiles slightly.

Iwaizumi claps him on the shoulder. “No problem.” Testing his new observation, he leaves his hand on a little longer than necessary, and feels satisfaction curl in his stomach when Ushijima leans into it the tiniest bit. He remembers the way Ushijima’s ears had turned red when he’d turned down Iwaizumi’s offer of a massage, and thinks that maybe he _hadn’t_ disliked the idea. Maybe he’d liked it too much.

Belatedly, Iwaizumi nods at Tendou. “Hey.”

“Iwaizumi,” Tendou says blandly. “I didn’t know you were attending this university.”

Iwaizumi frowns. “Really?”

Ushijima clears his throat. “Tendou.”

Tendou cackles, and yeah, there’s the obnoxious middle blocker Iwaizumi remembers. “Yeah, okay. I knew like, as soon as Wakatoshi found out. He won’t shut up about you.”

“ _Tendou_ ,” Ushijima groans, and Iwaizumi bites back laughter.

“Oh _really_ ,” he says, and watches Tendou’s sharp smile spread across his face. He looks like a shark.

“Yep!” His eyes catch on Iwaizumi’s arms, and his grin widens. “Nice tank top, by the way.”

“...thanks?” Iwaizumi plucks at the tank, confused, until he sees, out of the corner of his eye, Ushijima also checking out his arms. He turns in Ushijima’s direction and Ushijima averts his gaze, the tips of his ears red. “Oh.”

“Hmm,” Tendou hums. “Hey, Wakatoshi, go shower so we can head out.”

Ushijima’s eyes snap to him, relieved. “Ah, yes,” he says, and hurries back to the locker room.

“So,” Iwaizumi says, to fill the silence that ensues. “Are you just visiting?”

“I attend a university nearby,” Tendou says. “I thought I would try to make it out to at least one practice, see how our miracle boy is doing.”

“Ha,” Iwaizumi says. “Yeah. He’s doing good.”

“He is!” Tendou sounds proud, like he feels personally responsible for Ushijima’s talents. Iwaizumi huffs out a laugh.

“I didn’t know you two were that close,” he says casually. Tendou shoots him a sly glance.

“Well,” he says. “We may not be a dynamic duo--not like you and _Oikawa_.” Iwaizumi’s cheeks heat at the suggestion in Tendou’s tone. “But Wakatoshi is my best friend.”

“Oh,” Iwaizumi says sincerely. “That’s nice.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket to fidget with it. “You could come to practice more often. It could make him even more motivated.”

“I think he’s plenty motivated already,” Tendou says salaciously, raising his eyebrows at Iwaizumi. “He’s got you to show off for, hmm?”

Iwaizumi’s face is burning now. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says.

“Yeah, okay.” Tendou rolls his eyes. “Don’t be so boring, Iwaizumi. Take some risks once in a while!”

Iwaizumi glances at the doors to the gym, where Ushijima is re-entering from the locker room. His hair is wet, dripping down to dampen his shirt, making it stick to his shoulders and chest. “Yeah,” Iwaizumi says hoarsely. “Maybe.”

Tendou claps. “Aaaaand my work here is done! _Wakatoshi_ ,” he yells, “ _ready to go_?”

Ushijima nods, and they head out together, Iwaizumi watching them go.

 _Take a risk, huh?_ Iwaizumi chews his lip, lost in thought. _Maybe I should._

 

Iwaizumi can’t do anything for a few days, though, because he’s busy studying for an exam in chemistry. That class is kicking his ass, and he’s barely done anything other than eat, sleep, and study for the past forty-eight hours, and the eating and sleeping was only because he knew he should.

His phone buzzes.

(2:01) Hello, Iwaizumi. Have you eaten lunch yet? If not, would you like to join me for lunch?

Iwaizumi fires off a quick response.

(2:02) can’t, but thanks. studying

(2:03) I understand. Have you eaten?

(2:03) not yet, why?

(2:05) Will you be in the library for the next hour?

(2:06) i was planning on it, yeah

(2:08) Stay there, please. I’ll bring you lunch.

Iwaizumi sits upright in his chair.

(2:10) whoa, you don’t have to do that

(2:12) I want to.

How can Iwaizumi argue with that? He runs his hands over his face and groans quietly. Ushijima is just too much. The worst part is that Iwaizumi isn’t even sure he means that in a bad way.

He tries to go back to study, but gets another notification half an hour later.

(2:43) Where are you?

(2:43) in the second study room on the right

A minute later, the door to the room opens to reveal Ushijima, a bag of takeout in hand. He sets it on the table and pulls out two containers. Ramen, for Ushijima probably, and—

“Agedashi tofu,” Ushijima says. “It’s your favorite, right?”

Iwaizumi stares at him, and says, “Yeah. Thanks, Ushijima.” It feels too small for the gesture, but Iwaizumi doesn’t know what else to say. He looks down at the container as he pulls it toward him. “I really appreciate it.”

Ushijima makes a small, satisfied noise in reply, and Iwaizumi’s mouth curls into a smile.

 

(1:45) Hello, Iwaizumi. I know today is our day off from practice, but I was wondering if you would like to meet up to study for Monday’s test.

(1:47) yeah, sure

(1:48) when/where?

(1:50) I’m close to your dorm. Can I meet you there?

(1:51) works for me

(1:52) give me a bit though, i’m at the coffeeshop right now

(1:53) be back in 15

Ushijima is leaning against the wall when Iwaizumi arrives back at his dorm. He has a coffee in one hand, and an iced green tea in the other, which he holds out to Ushijima with a sly look.

“Ah,” Ushijima says, and smiles very slightly. “I’ve been caught.”

“Why didn’t you just say you didn’t like coffee?” Iwaizumi asks.

Ushijima shrugs. “I wasn’t really going for the coffee.”

Iwaizumi’s mouth parts in surprise. “Ah,” he breathes. “I see.”

“I mean—” Ushijima backtracks. “I—”

“No, I know what you meant.” Iwaizumi unlocks the door and bumps Ushijima’s shoulder with his own. “Come on in.”

Ushijima enters behind him, rubbing his shoulder absently. “This is nice.” Iwaizumi realizes with a start that Ushijima has never actually been inside his dorm room. Even that time he had run across campus to bring Iwaizumi his jacket, he’d just waited outside the door the whole time.

Well. Better late than never.

Iwaizumi shrugs. “It’s mine, that’s what matters.”

“No roommate, I see.”

“Yeah, I got a single,” Iwaizumi says. “Lucky, I guess.”

“I bet it’s more convenient.” Ushijima glances at him sideways. “For making phone calls and such.”

Iwaizumi laughs, sharp, sitting down on the bed. “You could say that.” It’s possible Ushijima means phone sex, but Iwaizumi just thinks of all the embarrassingly sappy phone conversations he’s had with Oikawa and shakes his head. “It’s nice for having people over, too.” He looks up at Ushijima from under his lashes.

Ushijima swallows. “Oh? Do you have other people over, often?”

“Not yet, but...” Iwaizumi shrugs, trails off.

“Oh,” Ushijima says. “Oikawa will be here in a few weeks, won’t he?”

That’s. Really not what Iwaizumi was getting at, but okay. “Yeah, for the practice match,” he says. “You remembered.” He isn’t really surprised.

“Of course,” Ushijima replies matter-of-factly. “How could I forget?”

“Are you excited?” Iwaizumi asks. “To face him again?”

Ushijima pulls the chair at the edge of the room toward the bed and sits down. “Yes. And nervous.”

Iwaizumi grins. “You should be. He’s improved since high school.”

Ushijima shakes his head. “It’s hard to believe that he could get even better, and yet I know it’s true.”

“Well,” Iwaizumi relents. “You’ve improved, too.”

“Have I?” Ushijima looks at him, eyes startlingly intense.

Iwaizumi allows the smile that crosses his face to crinkle his eyes, showing his sincerity. “Sure,” he says. “You’re fun to watch.”

“Oh,” Ushijima says dazedly.

Iwaizumi takes pity on him and changes the subject. “So, you wanted to study for the test?”

“Yes--I’m having trouble remembering some of the muscle groups, are you doing any better with them?”

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi nods. “I’ve got a pretty good memory for those. Which ones are you having trouble with?”

Ushijima flips through his notebook, letting out a soft “aha” when he reaches a certain page. “I made a list of the ones I am struggling with.” He offers the notebook to Iwaizumi, and Iwaizumi takes it from his hands.

“Hmm,” Iwaizumi says, looking it over.

Iliopsoas, sartorius, rectus abdominus, latissimus dorsi... _oh_. A terrible, wonderful idea unravels half-formed in the back of Iwaizumi’s mind.

“Here,” he says casually. “This should help you study, and give you some practical experience while you’re at it. Not everyone looks like a textbook diagram, you know?”

Ushijima tilts his head at him in silent confusion.

“I’ll explain in a second,” Iwaizumi assures. “Why don’t you take a second to study this diagram though, before we try it from memory?”

He hands his textbook back to Ushijima and waits for the couple minutes Ushijima spends studying the diagram. Iwaizumi flips through Ushijima’s notebook in that space of time, catching sight of painstakingly neat notes, rows upon columns of orderly writing, in color-coded pen and highlighter. Iwaizumi feels a strange surge of pride for Ushijima, focusing so hard on his studies and his sport at once.

“You really work hard, don’t you,” he murmurs. Ushijima’s head jerks up, surprised, gaze fixing on Iwaizumi, still holding his notebook. He doesn’t say anything, though. Doesn’t seem capable of saying anything in response.

“Ready?” Iwaizumi asks, gesturing for the textbook, which Ushijima sets at his side on the bed. “Okay, let’s start this way: I’ll say a muscle and you point it out on me.”

“On...you?” Ushijima asks faintly, and Iwaizumi kicks him lightly, laughing.

“Don’t worry, just with your finger is fine. Unless,” because he doesn’t _actually_ want to make Ushijima uncomfortable, “unless that’s not okay? We can find another way—”

But Ushijima is already shaking his head. “No, that sounds fine.”

“All right,” Iwaizumi says. He gets up and stands in the center of the small room, so Ushijima can walk around him freely. “Let’s start with something you should know already: point to the trapezius?”

Ushijima crosses behind him and touches him _ever_ so lightly where his neck, shoulders, and back meet, drawing a diamond-shape. “Here.”

“Good,” Iwaizumi says in a low voice. “All right, something harder: tibialis anterior.” With a slight exhale, Ushijima crouches and presses his finger to Iwaizumi’s shin. Iwaizumi smiles down at him with approval. “That’s right.”

 

When Iwaizumi estimates they’ve made it through about half of the muscles that will be covered on the test, they stop to take a break. Ushijima gets a couple wrong here and there, but fixes his mistakes easily when corrected. By the time they finish, the tension has gone out of Ushijima’s posture, but he’s gone quiet, his eyes lidded. Iwaizumi, only the other hand, is spiraling closer and closer to arousal, and decides it’ll be in both of their interests to take a breather.

“Hey,” he says, gently, but Ushijima still snaps into awareness. “I’m going to head the bathroom really quick, why don’t you go over the diagram again? We’ll switch when I get back.”

Ushijima nods, still apparently not feeling like speaking.

Iwaizumi walks down the hall to the bathrooms, going straight to the sink and turning on the water as cold as it can go. He cups his hands and fills them with water and splashes it on his overheated face. “Pull yourself together, Iwaizumi,” he says. Then he dries off his face, pulls out his phone, and calls Oikawa.

“Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asks when he picks up. “What’s up?”

“I need a pep talk,” Iwaizumi says.

Oikawa hums. “A pep talk for what?”

“I’m, uh—” Iwaizumi sighs. “I’m making my move.”

The ensuing gasp on Oikawa’s end makes him wince. “Iwa-chan!” Oikawa cries. “Congratulations!”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “Idiotkawa,” he says, “I’m not getting married.”

“Hey, you better not be!” Oikawa says indignantly. “I _know_ I called dibs.”

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi warns. Or pleads, probably. Whatever.

“Right, a pep talk.” Oikawa inhales, deeply, and Iwaizumi is about ninety-five percent of the way to regretting every decision that got him to this point when Oikawa says, “You’ve already got him, Iwa-chan. Trust me. You just have to seal the deal.” His voice is deep, the way it gets when he’s being really, truly serious, and in that moment, Iwaizumi knows he has to come clean on the one thing he’s been holding back.

“He likes you, you know.”

Oikawa goes silent.

“Ushijima,” Iwaizumi clarifies. “He had a ridiculous crush on you in high school. That’s why he was always so weird about everything.”

“Does—” Oikawa starts, voice unsure. “Does he still—”

“I haven’t asked,” Iwaizumi says. “But...I think so.”

“Why are you saying this now?” Oikawa’s voice is tight.

Iwaizumi swallows. “Because I realized I don’t want to do this without you.”

The sound crackles on the other end, like Oikawa’s fidgeting. “Iwa-chan, I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to make any decisions now. I just want you to know, so you can be...informed. Whenever, _what_ ever you do decide on. For now, just tell me--you’re on board with this, right? You’re not just saying it to be supportive? Because I’ll stop everything if you’re not okay with it.”

“Hajime.” Oikawa’s voice is soft, but sure. “I’m okay with it.”

Iwaizumi exhales. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Oikawa sucks in another dramatic breath. “Go get him, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi chuckles, half-giddy with relief. “Love you too, dumbass.”

He’s about to hang up when Oikawa says, “Wait!”

Iwaizumi frowns. “What is it?”

“Tell Ushijima...” Oikawa hesitates. “Tell him I said hi.”

A smile spreads across Iwaizumi’s face. “Yeah. I will.”

 

When Iwaizumi re-enters his dorm, Ushijima is sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at his hands. “You took a while,” he says.

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi says sheepishly, waving his phone as an explanation. “Oikawa called.”

He watches in dismay as Ushijima’s expressions shutters. He hadn’t even realized how open it had been until now. Panicking, Iwaizumi says the first thing that comes to mind.

“He said hi.” It comes out in a rush, and Ushijima blinks.

“Hi...to me? Oikawa?” Some of the stiffness recedes from his frame.

“Yeah, I was surprised too, haha,” Iwaizumi says with relief. “I think you’re growing on him.”

“I haven’t seen him since high school.”

Iwaizumi’s pulse stutters. Ah, whoops. “I talk about you sometimes,” he says, sitting down in the chair. “How nice you’ve been.”

Ushijima’s mouth parts. “Nice?”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi says. “The things you’ve been doing, being my friend; it’s sweet.”

“Sweet,” Ushijima repeats, like it’s a foreign word. His adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “Iwaizumi...”

Iwaizumi leans forward. “Yeah?”

But the moment breaks when Ushijima shakes his head. “Nothing. Shall we continue studying?”

Cursing internally, Iwaizumi says, “Sure.” He motions for Ushijima to stand up. “Let’s try it the other way around. I’ll touch a muscle of yours, and you name it. Is that okay?” he checks in.

Ushijima nods. “That’s fine.”

Iwaizumi starts easy, again, touching two fingers to Ushijima’s upper arm.

“Biceps,” Ushijima says, almost petulantly, like he knows Iwaizumi’s going easy on him. Iwaizumi huffs out a laugh, and brushes the same two fingers lightly over the front of Ushijima’s thigh. “Quad--quadriceps,” Ushijima stutters, and Iwaizumi breathes out, slow. He cups the juncture of Ushijima’s neck and shoulder, and Ushijima sighs, “Trapezius. We already did that one.”

“I know,” Iwaizumi murmurs. “I’m just making sure.”

“Oh,” Ushijima says. Iwaizumi holds his breath, walking behind him. Here goes nothing. He flattens his palm along Ushijima’s waist, draws it back smoothly toward his spine. All of the breath goes out of Ushijima in a rush.

“Ushijima?” Iwaizumi prompts.

“I—” Ushijima sways, like his knees are about to buckle.

“Hey,” Iwaizumi steadies him, his left hand coming up to mirror his right on Ushijima’s waist. Ushijima gasps and grabs Iwaizumi’s wrists, pulling them away and whirling around.

Iwaizumi takes a startled step back, and he’s halfway to apologizing when he stops dead at the wild look on Ushijima’s face.

“Latissimus dorsi,” Ushijima growls, and grabs Iwaizumi by the face to kiss him.

“Finally,” Iwaizumi gasps out against his mouth, and yanks Ushijima down more firmly against him.

Ten minutes later, he has Ushijima on the bed, propped up against the headboard with Iwaizumi halfway in his lap, pressed up against his front. “God,” Iwaizumi says, ducking his head to bite at Ushijima’s jaw.

Ushijima moans, hips jerking upward.

“Shit!” Iwaizumi exclaims, leaning his forehead on Ushijima’s shoulder and grinding down.

“Wait,” Ushijima pants. “Wait, wait, Iwaizumi, wait—”

“What.” Iwaizumi stills, pulling back and looking him in the eye. “What’s wrong?”

“Oikawa,” Ushijima says emphatically, and Iwaizumi could smack himself for being such a moron.

“Fuck, I should have talked to you about this already, I’m an idiot,” he berates himself.

Ushijima leans back until his head knocks against the headboard, breathing hard. Iwaizumi is halfway to leaning forward to bite at his bared throat before he shakes himself out of it. Can’t get distracted.

“I don’t understand,” Ushijima says. “Talked to me about what?”

Iwaizumi slides out of his lap to sit in front of him. On equal footing, so to speak. “Oikawa and I have talked about this,” he says. “When I first thought you might be interested in me, and when I first thought I might be interested in you.” He pauses, then decides to lay everything out in the open. “He didn’t actually call, today--I called him, because I wanted to take _this_ ,” he gestures between them, “farther, and I wanted to be absolutely sure he was fine with it.”

“And?” Ushijima asks hoarsely.

“He was,” Iwaizumi assures him. “Absolutely, completely fine. I promise.”

Ushijima doesn’t look like he completely believes him, but he looks like he’s willing to try. “All right,” he says.

“One more thing,” Iwaizumi says, ripping the bandage off. “I told him that you like him.”

Everything goes still. Or maybe it’s just Ushijima, frozen in shock, and Iwaizumi, holding his breath for his reaction.

“ _Why_ ,” Ushijima says miserably, and oh no, he’s pulling back and curling in on himself.

“ _Because_ ,” Iwaizumi says firmly, “I wanted to consider all three of us dating.”

Ushijima quiets. Slowly, he relaxes, and Iwaizumi lets out a relieved breath. “All three of us?” Ushijima asks quietly.

“Yes.” Iwaizumi shrugs. “He’s not one-hundred percent there yet, but he’s definitely okay with what we’re doing now, and he’s at least thinking about more. Okay?”

“But he _hates_ me,” Ushijima says.

“What? No he doesn’t.”

“Of course he does. He hates me,” Ushijima repeats stubbornly.

Iwaizumi shakes his head. “Oikawa doesn’t hate anyone. He maybe didn’t like you much during high school, but that’s because you were being kind of a dick.”

Ushijima’s shoulders slump, ashamed.

“But,” Iwaizumi continues, “I wasn’t lying when I said you’re growing on him. I think he likes you a fair amount just from all the things I’ve told him.” He reaches out and cups Ushijima’s jaw, watches with satisfaction as he leans into the touch. “And you are sweet.”

“I’m sorry,” Ushijima whispers. “For not being that way before.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Iwaizumi says, shuffling forward again to knock their heads together. “We’re already over that, remember? Everyone can be an idiot in love.”

“You weren’t.”

Iwaizumi snickers. “Sure I was. Mine just happened a lot earlier, so you never got to see it.”

He remembers when Oikawa first hurt his knee. Iwaizumi had dragged him the nurse’s office, stayed with him till his parents arrived—then ignored him for a week, so scared for Oikawa and so freaked out by how scared he was. It had lasted until Oikawa had shown up at his doorstep, sniffling and weeping big crocodile tears. Iwaizumi had punched him, and they had both forgotten all about it. Until now.

Ushijima shifts against him. “You’re thinking about Oikawa. Aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi answers honestly. “Does that bother you? Thinking about him when we’re together?”

He doesn’t miss the way Ushijima shivers at ‘together’. “No,” Ushijima says. “It doesn’t bother me.” He moves again Iwaizumi again, like he wants to say something but isn’t sure how.

“What is it?”

“Do you want to call him?”

Iwaizumi considers it. “I’m good with waiting till tomorrow if you are. Can I kiss you again?”

Ushijima smiles at him, a real, warm smile, and says, “Please.”

 

They don’t move past making out that night, but Ushijima sleeps over, back pressed tight to Iwaizumi’s chest in the tiny dorm bed. It’s hot and sweaty and awkward and Iwaizumi loves it.

He wakes up on Sunday with his face smushed up against Ushijima’s nape, smiling even before he’s fully awake. He must make a sound or exhale or something, because Ushijima groans sleepily and twists around to face him.

“Hi,” Iwaizumi says. He keeps his voice low--it just seems like the thing to do.

“Hello,” Ushijima says, equally hushed. “Are we late for practice?” His expression is fuzzy, like he’s still at least five percent asleep, and his hair is sticking up.

Iwaizumi laughs. “Practice isn’t until two, Ushijima.”

“What time is it?” Ushijima mumbles. His voice, always deep, is even deeper and rough in the morning, which is something Iwaizumi never expected to have the opportunity to learn, but he’s happy to have found out.

“Ten.” Iwaizumi loops an arm around Ushijima’s waist. Ushijima stiffens at first, before relaxing slightly, like he’s adjusting to being allowed it. “We have some time.”

“I should go back to my apartment.” Ushijima rubs at his eyes and rolls onto his back.

Iwaizumi shrugs with one shoulder, watching him. “Sure,” he says. “You can shower here, if you want.”

“I think I’ll shower there,” Ushijima replies. He’s avoiding Iwaizumi’s gaze.

Iwaizumi sits up. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Ushijima turns away. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Are you...” Iwaizumi feels himself beginning to tense, and thinks _Stop panicking_. “Is this not okay? Did I move too fast, or—”

“No!” Ushijima is sitting upright in a heartbeat. “No, Iwaizumi, I—” He exhales sharply. “I’m just processing. Just give me a bit. Please.”

Iwaizumi chews his lip. “Do you want me to not come to practice today?”

Ushijima considers it in silence for a long moment. “No,” he says. “I just need time sort my thoughts out. I’m going to head back to my apartment.”

“You’ve got it,” Iwaizumi says. He resists the urge to tell Ushijima to text him when he gets back to his apartment, like an overprotective boyfriend. Shit. Instead, he watches as Ushijima rolls out of bed, tugs at his clothes in a fruitless attempt to straighten them, grabs his things, and heads for the door.

He pauses. Without turning around, he says, “Just give me today.”

Iwaizumi nods, even though Ushijima isn’t looking at him.

And then he’s gone.

 

An hour later, though, his phone rings, Ushijima’s name popping up on the screen. He’s never called Iwaizumi before, so this is the first time he’s seen his contact photo flash on his phone screen. It’s a photo Iwaizumi had taken at the second practice he attended: Ushijima mid-air, winding up for a spike, eyes narrowed.

He picks up. “Hello?”

“Iwaizumi,” Ushijima says in his stupid, deep voice. “I’m sorry.”

 _Deep breaths_ , Iwaizumi thinks. “For what?”

“For getting scared.” Ushijima sighs. “I didn’t expect to have this. I didn’t expect to have you, does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi says. “It does. But you have me, okay? You’ve got me.”

“I know that now,” Ushijima says, like he finally believes it. He sounds like he’s moving, footsteps against tile.

Iwaizumi frowns. “Where are you?”

Ushijima makes a cut-off noise. “Could you open the door?”

And Iwaizumi is on his feet in a second, opening the door too fast, so fast it hits the wall. “Hi—”

It’s all he gets out before Ushijima pushes forward, kissing him insistently the same way he did yesterday. The difference is that this time, there’s a desperation to it, like he’s trying to send a message. Ushijima, who has been patiently waiting, letting Iwaizumi set the pace of their relationship this whole time, from the beginning of their friendship until now; the sudden change of direction is startling. Iwaizumi doesn’t mind.

“All straightened out?” Iwaizumi gasps, stumbling backward.

“Yes,” Ushijima says, kicking the door shut behind him with a _bang_.

“That didn’t take you long.” He’s running his mouth, words coming out on autopilot.

Ushijima growls, impatient, and says, “Stop talking.” Then he pushes Iwaizumi onto the bed, pulls his pants down his thighs, and sucks his brain out through his dick.

 

**epilogue**

Oikawa’s team arrives early on a Saturday morning, a bus full of boys who file out one by one, yawning and stretching, onto the pavement outside the gymnasium.

All except one--Oikawa, who’s already looking around, searching.

When he spots Iwaizumi, his entire face goes blank, and then slowly, slowly blooms into the most joyous expression Iwaizumi has seen on his face since he had been made captain at Seijoh.

Oikawa takes a step forward and then hesitates, turning to his coach. The coach glances up at him and then in Iwaizumi’s direction. He snorts and waves a dismissive hand.

And then Oikawa is jogging toward him, and the next thing Iwaizumi knows, he’s in his arms.

It’s funny: Oikawa’s taller than Iwaizumi by a few centimeters. But you wouldn’t know it from the way his arms come up under Iwaizumi’s shoulders, his face tucking into his neck like puzzle pieces slotting together. Iwaizumi presses his face into Oikawa’s hair and sighs.

“Missed you,” Oikawa says, muffled voice vibrating against Iwaizumi’s throat. “Missed you so much.”

Iwaizumi pulls him back by the shoulders. “Can I kiss you?”

Oikawa nods frantically and Iwaizumi cups his face between his hands and kisses him. He can’t kiss him as deeply as he wants (his coach and team are literally _right there_ ) so he has to pull away after a second.

He catches Oikawa sniffling, and laughs. “Tooooru,” he teases, “are you crying?”

“Shut up,” Oikawa says peevishly. He sniffs again and shoves Iwaizumi away. “And go away, you’re going to distract me from my game mindset.”

Iwaizumi snickers and grabs his wrists holding them his chest. “It’s okay,” he says. “I know Ushijima is already completely flustered, so you’ll be even.”

“Oho,” Oikawa says, and looks around. “Where is Ushiwaka-chan, anyway?”

“Inside, warming up.” Iwaizumi looks up at where the team is filtering away. “Which it looks like your team is going to do as well. Go on.” He slaps Oikawa lightly on the ass and laughs at the yelp it gets.

Iwaizumi trails after Oikawa at a distance as they enter the gym. Oikawa runs off to the locker room to change, and Iwaizumi makes his way to the coaches’ bench.

“Coach,” he says, to get Kanzaki’s attention. “I’d like to watch this match from the stands, if that’s okay.”

The assistant coaches look at him, confused, but Coach Kanzaki gives him a knowing look. “If you want, Iwaizumi, although if you can still take notes, that would be appreciated.”

“Of course.” Iwaizumi nods.

Coach Takeuchi frowns. “Why are you watching from the stands, if you don’t mind saying?”

Iwaizumi rubs the back of his neck, feelings his cheeks heat up. He expected the question, but that doesn’t make it any less mortifying. “My, uh.” He coughs. “My boyfriend is on the other team.

“Ah,” Takeuchi says, and Sato’s mouth forms a little ‘o’ of understanding. Iwaizumi’s face is burning.

“He was also your setter, right?” Coach Kanzaki asks.

Iwaizumi laughs ruefully. Of course he knew the whole time. “Yeah, in high school.”

“You were Aoba Johsai’s ace.”

“Yes, sir.” Iwaizumi stands a little straighter, squares his shoulder.

Takeuchi gapes. “Of course!” he says. “I don’t know how I didn’t remember your name. You were very good.”

Iwaizumi ducks his head. “Ah, thank you.” Thoroughly embarrassed at this point, he points to the stands and says, “I’m just going to...”

When he’s sitting midway up the stands, in a sparse crowd of friends and family, he relaxes. Their team is practicing spikes on the right side of the gym; it’s about fifteen minutes before the match is going to start.

Down on the gym floor, Ushijima tenses, then jumps. Iwaizumi’s breath catches as he seems to hang mid-air, back a gorgeous arch as he swings his arm to hit the ball. It hits the floor with a deafening sound, like it could break the wood.

Iwaizumi grins. As if on cue, Ushijima turns and looks directly at him, eyes burning with motivation. Biting back a laugh, Iwaizumi shoots him a thumbs up.

Ushijima blinks, some of the raw energy fading from his expression. His mouth quirks slightly to one side, and his eyes crinkle.

(Iwaizumi thinks of that morning, before they entered the gym.

“Technically,” he’d said, “I’m rooting for Oikawa. But you’d better give him hell, okay?”

Ushijima had smirked, the most assholish expression Iwaizumi’d ever seen on his face, and said, “Don’t worry. I’ll let him keep his pride when I beat him.”)

Most of the other team is there, finishing warming up and starting their spikes as well. Oikawa is missing, though--oh no, there he is, coming in from the locker rooms. _Typical_ , Iwaizumi thinks, amused.

Oikawa steps up for his turn, and Iwaizumi looks to the other side. Ushijima is staring at him with hunger, eyes glittering and mouth half-open like he’d forgotten how much he wanted him. Iwaizumi can sympathize.

The teams both finish and begin lining up for the match itself. The captains meet each other at the net and shake hands. Ushijima is in the starting lineup, which Iwaizumi had already known. Oikawa, though...Oikawa is starting too, in the server’s position. He hadn’t mentioned that.

“Come on,” Iwaizumi whispers, leaning forward in his seat as Oikawa twirls the ball in his hands. The motion is so familiar, so firmly imprinted in Iwaizumi’s brain, that for a moment he _aches_ , sweet and sharp. Then Oikawa’s head comes up, eyes narrowed with intent, and any wistfulness is washed away by the anticipation and pure heat building in Iwaizumi’s gut.

The whistle blows. Oikawa throws the ball in the air, runs up slowly, and _leaps_. He moves like he’s in slow motion, effortlessly and beautifully. On the other side of the court, Ushijima crouches, arms braced for a receive, gaze hooded and intense.

Oikawa pulls his arm back, and hits the ball with all his strength.

It’s a show-off move, one Oikawa only applies when he’s trying to get something done or make a point. He’s smiling as the ball hits the ground on the other side of the net.

Ushijima stares back, Iwaizumi exhales, and the match begins.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flicker of anticipation forms in Iwaizumi’s stomach. “Actually, we were going to go get ice cream.” He glances at Oikawa, passing the ball off, letting him decide where to take it.
> 
> As always, they’re on the same page. Oikawa’s lips twitch.
> 
> “Want to join us, Ushiwaka-chan?” he says sweetly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaand here's the post-fic porn! takes place immediately after the end of chapter 1
> 
> i promised eventual ot3, didn't i? ;)
> 
> ETA: completely forgot to mention in my sleep-deprived haze last night, but--the ot3 has sex here (including anal sex without using a condom) without having a convo about protection, etc. PLEASE assume that they had this conversation off-screen, sometime between iwa-chan and ushijima getting together and this point. safer sex is important friends!!!

After the match, Iwaizumi waits outside the locker room for Oikawa to finish, intent on dragging him back to his dorm room as soon as possible--only for Oikawa to come swanning out of the locker room and declare, “Iwa-chan, I think I deserve to be treated to ice cream, don’t you?”

“You barely even won,” Iwaizumi says dryly, pushing off the wall.

Oikawa makes an outraged noise. “But I did win!”

Iwaizumi shakes his head and sighs. “You know, Oikawa, I _did_ actually have plans.” He looks sideways at Oikawa and smirks. “But if you really want to go get ice cream—”

“Now hold on just a second,” Oikawa interrupts, holding up a hand. “What sort of plans?”

Before Iwaizumi can answer, however, Ushijima exits the other locker room and catches sight of him. Iwaizumi smiles and waves him over.

“Hey, good game,” he says.

“I made him work for it,” Ushijima says matter-of-factly, “just like you asked.”

Oikawa huffs indignantly, but doesn’t argue. Iwaizumi snorts. “We were just heading out,” he says. He’d told Ushijima the previous night that he might be spending the rest of the day with Oikawa, since he had to be back at the gym at seven. “But I was about to come find you. You did really well.”

Ushijima blushes. He’s been doing that more often, since they’ve started dating, and it never gets any less endearing. Out of the corner of his eye, Iwaizumi sees Oikawa’s eyes widen. That’s...interesting.

A flicker of anticipation forms in Iwaizumi’s stomach. “Actually, we were going to go get ice cream.” He glances at Oikawa, passing the ball off, letting him decide where to take it.

As always, they’re on the same page. Oikawa’s lips twitch.

“Want to join us, Ushiwaka-chan?” he says sweetly.

“Don’t call me that,” Ushijima says automatically, but there’s absolutely zero bite to it; if anything, he looks pleased. “But—” He looks away. “I don’t want to intrude.”

Oikawa laughs, the bell-like peal that means he’s up to something. “You’re so boring, Ushiwaka-chan! Don’t be such a martyr.”

Ushijima frowns, and says, “Fine, then I will come with you. But please, let me pay.”

“Oh no,” Iwaizumi interjects, “we’re not going down that path again. I’m paying.”

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa exclaims. “How kind! I knew you’d agree to treat me.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, but he knows he’s failing at hiding his smile.

It turns out that neither he nor Ushijima know where the closest ice cream place is (“Don’t you ever eat ice cream anymore, Iwa-chan! Your life is so sad without me.” “No, I just don’t have you to give me bad habits.”). Oikawa has to pull out his phone and google it, but he takes pleasure in ordering them in the right direction.

“What do you want?” Iwaizumi asks when they enter the shop.

“Chocolate for me,” Oikawa says.

Ushijima fidgets. “For me as well,” he says reluctantly, like he’s still mad about Iwaizumi paying.

Oikawa is delighted. “I thought you would have gone for vanilla,” he teases. “Ushiwaka-chan, you _do_ have good taste. Although,” and here he looks at Iwaizumi under his lashes, “I suppose I should have known that already.”

Startlingly, Ushijima chuckles, as deep and rich as the three chocolate ice creams Iwaizumi’s stepping up the counter to order. “I suppose you should have.”

When Iwaizumi turns back to look at him, Oikawa is staring, mouth open, twin spots of red high on his cheeks.

“Ah,” Ushijima says. “I’m going to use the restroom.”

As soon as he’s out of earshot, Iwaizumi starts cackling. “Oh my god,” he gasps, “your face.”

“Fuck you,” Oikawa hisses. “You didn’t tell me he was _cute_.”

“Oh don’t even,” Iwaizumi laughs, taking the ice cream from the cashier and heading to a table by the window. “I did, I know I fucking did, and you made _fun_ of me for it. Ha!”

Oikawa groans. “Oh my god, shut up.” He covers his face and complains, muffled, “I can’t believe I’m into Ushiwaka now, who even am I?”

Iwaizumi can’t answer, because he’s too busy snickering into his ice cream.

Hands still over his face, Oikawa mutters, “I want to fuck him.”

Iwaizumi chokes.

“Have you fucked him yet?” Oikawa demands. “Does he blush during that, too?”

“Shit, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi swears, “what the hell.” He’s not complaining though--the opposite in fact. This was the best out of all possible outcomes of this outing.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, seriously. “Did your plans for today require us being alone?”

Iwaizumi stares at him wonderingly. “No,” he replies, stretching out the ‘o’. “Not necessarily.”

Oikawa takes a slow breath and exhales it. “Okay,” he says. “I’m going to need you to follow my lead here.”

And Iwaizumi smiles at him and says, “Don’t I always?”

It’s at that moment that Ushijima comes back from the bathroom, and Oikawa’s face smooths over into his earlier polite, sugary confidence. There’s something in his eyes, though, that reveals a fault in his composure. “Welcome back, Ushiwaka-chan,” he sings. “Your ice cream is melting.”

Ushijima blinks at him, then sits down carefully in the empty chair. Without realizing it, Iwaizumi and Oikawa had sat across from each other, putting Ushijima squarely between them. Looking at the purposeful way Oikawa watches Ushijima eat, Iwaizumi thinks that might work in their favor.

“So,” Oikawa says lightly. “What did you think about facing me again? Still think my pride is insignificant?”

Ushijima tenses. “I apologize for that.”

Oikawa waves a hand. “Consider yourself forgiven. But really,” he continues, “I do want to know what you thought.” He leans forward and rests his chin on one hand, eyes glittering. The shift in demeanor is startling. “At the very least, you’re a very formidable opponent, Ushiwaka-chan. Your perspective is important to me.”

Iwaizumi struggles to contain his laughter as Ushijima pauses, ice-cream-filled spoon halfway to his mouth, before setting it back in the cup. He looks tentatively pleased, but unsettled, which is likely exactly where Oikawa wants him to be. Of course: Ushijima’s never been on the receiving end of all of Oikawa’s attentions, before. Not like this.

“Your serve was as excellent as always,” Ushijima says carefully. “But more consistent.”

Oikawa nods in concession. “And?”

Ushijima sighs, something that could almost be described as wistful . “You were already so comfortable with your teammates. Like you’d been playing with them for years.”

“Are you even the starting setter?” Iwaizumi asks, breaking in.

Oikawa shakes his head. “No.”

“You will be, if you’re already playing like that,” Ushijima predicts, certainty coloring his voice. “By the end of this semester, you will be.”

“You don’t even know how good our starter is,” Oikawa says dryly.

Ushijima shrugs. “Does it matter? I know you’re better.”

And that, his complete and utter faith in Oikawa’s talents--unfettered by the jealous chastisements he used to lay at Oikawa’s feet like a cat with dead mice--that cracks Oikawa’s composure, despite his best intentions. Iwaizumi watches in fascination as Oikawa purses his lips and drops his gaze to the tabletop.

But Ushijima doesn’t seem to notice. “May I ask for the same from you?”

That gets Oikawa to raise his head again, a cat-got-the-cream smile spreading slow on his lips, like this is what he’d been aiming for all along.

“You were very good,” he purrs, and Iwaizumi almost drops his spoon at the warmth in his voice. Abruptly, he remembers Hinata long ago giving him his best advice on how to get Ushijima: _be really mean to him and then suddenly be really nice to him_ , and starts to think that maybe Oikawa has the same idea. “You’re still so strong, aren’t you, Ushijima?”

“Stronger, I would think,” Iwaizumi points out, surprisingly evenly given the way his heart is racing.

Oikawa hums in agreement. “Your form was perfect.”

Ushijima looks caught in his gaze, mesmerized. “Really?” His voice has lowered to the gravelly timbre it gets when he’s turned on. Oikawa tilts his head like a predator coming in for the kill.

“Are you doubting me, Ushiwaka-chan?” he asks, mock-severely. “You shouldn’t. I always tell the truth.”

Iwaizumi laughs. “That’s true,” he says, “of all the virtues you lack, honesty isn’t one of them.”

Oikawa pouts at him. “Mean, Iwa-chan,” he whines. “I’m trying to be nice.”

Iwaizumi waves a hand at him. “Continue.”

“As I was saying,” Oikawa huffs. “Now that I’m no longer irritated as fuck by everything you do...” He shrugs. “You’re kind of a pleasure to watch.”

And just like that, Ushijima’s gone. Iwaizumi can see it in the way his breathing hitches and his eyes dilate, the way his hand clenches around his spoon. They’ve all forgotten about their ice cream.

With a meaningful glance in Oikawa’s direction, Iwaizumi makes the executive decision that the time for slow seduction is over.

“Hey Ushijima,” he says. Ushijima turns to look at him, eyes a little wild. Iwaizumi projects as calm and reassuring an aura as he can, and says, “Do you want to come back to my dorm with us?”

“With—” Ushijima cuts himself off as realization starts to dawn on him, his gaze flying to Oikawa again. Oikawa just rest his chin on his hand again and raises his eyebrows. “Is this a joke?”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Iwaizumi says firmly.

Ushijima turns back to him, slowly. He looks a little more with it. “You’re right,” he says. “I’m sorry, of course you wouldn’t.”

“For the record,” Oikawa says softly. “I wouldn’t either. I’m not that kind of guy.”

“You...” Ushijima exhales. “You want this?”

“Hajime likes you.” Oikawa holds Ushijima’s gaze. “And I love him. So I’m trying, okay?” He looks away, out the window, like he’s embarrassed. Which is hilarious, Iwaizumi thinks, because Oikawa so rarely gets embarrassed by anything. “Plus,” Oikawa mutters, “you can be kind of sweet.”

That’s good enough for Iwaizumi, and it must be enough for Ushijima too, because he gathers up his unfinished ice cream and tosses it in the trash bin next to them. “Shall we?”

They stay quiet on the short walk back to Iwaizumi’s dorm through unspoken agreement, with the exception of Oikawa reading off directions from google maps periodically. His left hand is clasped tight in Iwaizumi’s right, and Iwaizumi doesn’t even remember grabbing it, like it happened on autopilot.

Ushijima is watching them, so Iwaizumi leans over and pecks him on the cheek. Startled, Ushijima touches the spot with his fingertips.

“What,” Iwaizumi jokes, “did you think I forgot about you?”

“Turn left,” Oikawa murmurs. Ushijima doesn’t answer, and Iwaizumi knocks their shoulders together.

When they reach the dorm building, Oikawa leads the way, with Iwaizumi bringing up the rear. He doesn’t remember telling Oikawa where his dorm was located, but he must have at some point, because surely enough, Oikawa brings them directly in front of his door.

Iwaizumi nudges him out of the way to key open the door. He’s already thinking ahead on how to get them actual, well, sex. They’re already dangerously close to edging into awkwardness, and Iwaizumi wants this to work out so badly he’s afraid the want will paralyze him.

Turns out he doesn’t have to worry. As soon as the door’s open, Oikawa hustles both Iwaizumi and Ushijima through it, all but slamming it shut behind them. He waits for them to get their shoes off and then shoves Ushijima up against the door and demands, “Tell me this is okay.”

Ushijima nods, a little frantic, and Oikawa kisses him. It’s not like the first time Iwaizumi and Ushijima had kissed--it’s dirtier than that, right off the bat, and Iwaizumi groans quietly at the sight. He admires the way Oikawa presses his entire body against Ushijima’s, pins him thoroughly. Despite being a skinny fuck, Oikawa is also _strong_ , something that Iwaizumi has almost forgotten.

He’s also tall, which means that he barely has to rise on his toes to mouth at Ushijima’s neck, the bit of his jaw under his ear, not the way Iwaizumi does. And he kisses like a beast, making his way down Ushijima’s throat and then back up to his mouth, leaving little stinging bites the whole way, and--god, Iwaizumi needs to be touching him yesterday, can’t believe he’s waited this long to do it.

“Can I—” he chokes out, reaching for Oikawa. Ushijima pulls back, his head hitting the door with a thunk, to make eye contact. Comprehension dawns in his eyes, and he nudges Oikawa backward until he collides with Iwaizumi’s chest. “Tooru,” Iwaizumi whispers, pulling him around to face him.

Oikawa’s wide, heated eyes roam Iwaizumi’s face hungrily, like he’s trying to absorb as much as he can. “Shit,” he says, almost angrily, and kisses Iwaizumi like he wants to devour him. “Don’t ever leave me again,” he mutters when he pulls back, his hands sweeping firm strokes up Iwaizumi’s sides and down his back to untuck his shirt. Oikawa doesn’t mean that, thought, at least not entirely, so he amends, “Don’t let me go this long without touching you.” His palms come up under the hem, and Iwaizumi hisses at the touch of callused palms on his bare skin.

“Bed,” he gasps. Fuck, he’s so hard.

“The lube is still underneath the pillow,” Ushijima reminds him, pulling the both of them by the wrists toward the bed.

Oikawa laughs, lifting up the pillow to reveal the small bottle. “Why, Ushiwaka-chan,” he says, “are you looking to get fucked?”

Ushijima’s ears go red. “I’m not against it,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“No, wait.” As much as he wants to see that, there’s something Iwaizumi wants more. “Ushijima, you should fuck me. If you want to.” Ushijima looks at him like he’s an idiot, and Oikawa snorts.

“I’m pretty sure he wants to, Iwa-chan.”

“We’ve never done it this way before,” Iwaizumi clarifies, leaning back against the pillows, “so I just wanted to make sure.”

“Shit, really?” Oikawa shakes his head, disbelieving. “All right, here we go then. Ushiwaka-chan, do you want to do the honors?” He gestures with the bottle of lube and wiggles his fingers vaguely.

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and smacks him. He’s still standing beside the bed, so Iwaizumi has to reach to do it, but he makes it work. “Get over here, stupid,” he says.

“I’m not sure this bed will fit all of us,” Oikawa warns, but the eager way he climbs on to tangle their limbs together belies his words.

Iwaizumi huffs, pulling him on top of him. “We’re all relatively flexible athletes, I’m sure we can manage.”

Oikawa gasps, mock-surprised. “And here I thought maybe you’d gotten out of shape without volleyball.”

“He hasn’t,” Ushijima says, muffled by the fact that he’s in the middle of taking his shirt off. Both Iwaizumi and Oikawa pause for a moment, just to take him in.

“Okay, yeah, this was a good idea,” Oikawa says happily. He squirms around until he can reach his own pants, elbowing Iwaizumi in the gut in the process.

“Oi, Shittykawa, watch where you’re putting your limbs,” Iwaizumi complains. He decides to smooth things along by helping Oikawa slide his pants and boxers down his thighs in one go. But despite his best intentions, he ends up getting in the way, too distracted by the velvety feel of Oikawa’s skin to be of much use. “I fucking missed this,” he sighs, groping at Oikawa’s ass, and Oikawa squawks.

“What, my ass? Iwa-chan, I feel so objectified!”

Iwaizumi bites his ear in retaliation. “No, dumbass, I just missed touching you.” Oikawa shivers and melts against him.

Ushijima has his clothes almost entirely off, at this point, with the exception of his boxers and, endearingly, his socks. “Hey, Ushiwaka-chan,” Oikawa orders, “switch places with me.” He clambers over Iwaizumi’s legs until he reaches the foot of the bed, immediately turning to getting all his clothes off as quickly as possible. “Leave the socks on, you look cute,” Oikawa adds. Ushijima huffs out a laugh and obeys, carefully covering Iwaizumi with his body.

“You can put more of your weight on me,” Iwaizumi points out. “I won’t break.”

“Hmm.” Ushijima settles a little more comfortable on him, thigh slotting easily between both of Iwaizumi’s. “Like this?” he asks innocently, and presses his leg up against Iwaizumi’s dick.

Iwaizumi’s breath hitches on a moan. “Shit, yeah, like that.” He manages to regather enough of his brain cells to ask, “What time is it? How long do we have?”

Oikawa, now naked, reaches for the phone on the bedside table, flailing for it as he almost knocks it onto the floor. “Two o’clock,” he says. “We’ve got plenty of time.”

“Okay, yeah.” Iwaizumi lifts his hips up to push his pants down, wrapping his legs around Ushijima’s waist. “We have time for you to fuck me, then.” Ushijima groans quietly and grinds up against him, and the friction makes Iwaizumi gasp and claw at his shoulders. “Come on, do it.”

“Here,” Oikawa says impatiently, tossing the abandoned bottle of lube in their direction. It hits Ushijima between the shoulder-blades, and he twists around to glare half-heartedly at Oikawa. “Oops,” Oikawa says sweetly. “Get on with it.”

Ushijima sucks in a breath and pulls away, just enough to press Iwaizumi’s legs to his chest for easier access. He grabs the lube, fumbles it, catches it. “Hey, doing okay?” Iwaizumi checks. Ushijima raises his gaze to meet his, and his eyes--they’re darker than Iwaizumi’s ever seen them, with a kind of raw heat that pins Iwaizumi to the bedspread more effectively than any restraint. “You want it that much, huh?” Ushijima curses and leans in to take another kiss.

“Stop talking,” he says, reminiscent of the first time they’d done this, and Iwaizumi laughs and shuts up.

“Wow,” Oikawa remarks. “Effective.”

“You stop talking too,” Ushijima says impatiently.

“Ouch.” Like a cat, Oikawa slinks forward until he’s pressed up against Ushijima’s back, leaning forward to murmur in his ear, “Are you sure that’s what you want?” Ushijima shudders. “Iwa-chan said you hadn’t fucked him before. Want me to talk you through it?”

“I don’t need you to tell me how to fuck,” Ushijima objects, but his voice is hoarse and so, so deep.

“That’s not what I asked, though.” Oikawa reaches his hands around Ushijima’s waist to brace against Iwaizumi’s thighs. “I asked if you _wanted_ me to.” Ushijima hesitates, and then nods. Iwaizumi exhales a shaky breath and lets his thighs fall a little more open. “All right. Get the lube open.”

Ushijima takes a breath and does what he says.

“Get it on your hand--as much as you think is necessary, and then more.” Oikawa waits until Ushijima’s done that, and then says, “Start with one finger.”

Iwaizumi sucks in a breath and holds it, letting it go in a rush when Ushijima traces his thumb around his rim, careful but insistent. “Put it in, come on,” he urges, and then covers his red face when Oikawa laughs at him.

“You heard him.”

Slowly, _unbearably_ slowly, Ushijima works his middle finger in to the first knuckle. Iwaizumi swears and tightens around it. “Come on, come on.”

“Be patient, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa chides. “I know it’s been a while.”

“Yeah, like I haven’t fingered myself in three months,” Iwaizumi says snidely, and is gratified by the way Oikawa inhales sharply and goes red. Iwaizumi kicks Ushijima in the hip with the side of his foot. “You can go a little faster.”

Ushijima raises an eyebrow and pushes his finger in all the way. Iwaizumi bites back a groan. “ _There_ you go.”

“Iwa-chan, I thought Ushiwaka-chan told you to stop talking,” Oikawa says, amused.

Iwaizumi huffs. “Yeah, that’s not happening.” He nudges Ushijima with his foot again. “Keep going.” Ushijima does, fucking him with his finger a little faster. He leans down to suck a mark into Iwaizumi’s throat, and Iwaizumi tilts his head back to give him better access. “Just like that,” he murmurs. In the background, he hears the lube’s cap pop back open, and then a quiet moan from Oikawa’s corner of the bed. “Are you touching yourself?” he asks, lifting his head weakly.

Oikawa smiles at him, biting his lip showily while he strokes himself. “Don’t mind me,” he says. “Keep doing what you’re doing.” He rests his chin on Ushijima’s shoulder. “Give him another.” Ushijima obeys with a sigh, pulling out his finger and replacing it with two. It’s a bit of a stretch, but Iwaizumi revels in it.

“Fuck,” he pants, hips twitching upward. He plucks ineffectually at the waistband of Ushijima’s boxers. “Why the fuck are these still on,” he mutters darkly. Oikawa hides his laugh in Ushijima’s neck and helps pull the boxers down.

“You’re the last one wearing clothes, Iwa-chan,” he admonishes. “Get that shirt off.” Ushijima’s still preoccupied with marking up Iwaizumi’s neck, and Iwaizumi pushes him away so he can take his shirt off. Ushijima curses under his breath and moves to his pectoral, grinding absently against his hip.

“How many marks are you going to leave?” Iwaizumi says, amusement winning out over arousal for a moment.

“As many as I want,” Ushijima growls. “Can I add another finger?” he asks Oikawa.

Oikawa hums. “Yeah, okay,” he says. “Iwa-chan can take it.” His gaze is almost predatory. Iwaizumi shivers, and it doesn’t stop, only grows to shaking when Ushijima puts in the third finger. He’s spiraling, the heat in his abdomen growing almost unbearable.

“I’m ready, I’m ready, come on,” he says desperately. “If you don’t hurry up I’m going to—”

“Go ahead,” Ushijima grits out.

Iwaizumi throws his head back and moans, legs slipping down to close tightly around Ushijima’s waist. He drums his heel against Ushijima’s back, frenzied, fighting the urge to come. “I don’t want to,” he protests, “not yet.” He squeezes his eyes shut and pants, doesn’t open them until his orgasm retreats. “Just--get in me, come on.”

“You’d better do it,” Oikawa concedes, like he’s not pressing forward eagerly, eyes alight, mouth open and wet against Ushijima’s neck. “Or he’s going to get mad.”

Ushijima’s face does something complicated and he pulls his fingers out. Iwaizumi clenches, a reflex, and tries not to dwell on how empty he feels. He’s mumbling a constant litany of “come on, come on,” under his breath, but he can’t make himself stop.

In one smooth movement, Ushijima pulls Iwaizumi forward by the hips and pushes his legs back up against his chest. His huge hands brace on Iwaizumi’s thighs, grip tight and bruising, and Iwaizumi struggles to breathe past how turned on he is.

Ushijima grabs his dick with one hand and lines up. “Ready?” he asks, and Iwaizumi is about to punch him before he realizes he’s teasing.

“Just fuck me, dumbass,” he says fondly. Ushijima smiles, tiny and dry, and pushes in.

“Ohhh,” Iwaizumi sighs. Distantly he hears Oikawa say “oh, wow,” but he’s too busy focusing on the stretch of Ushijima inside him, how deep he is when he’s all the way in.

“Can I—” Ushijima chokes out, and Iwaizumi orders, “ _Move_.” He does, carefully, pulling almost all the way out and thrusting back in, over and over, picking up speed as he goes. Iwaizumi whines through gritted teeth, reaching for his dick, but Ushijima shakes his head. “No, please,” he begs, “let me,” and Iwaizumi’s nodding, frantic, before he even finishes the thought.

And then Ushijima’s hand is wrapped around him, rough and a little too dry, and _perfect_ , and, fuck, fuck, Iwaizumi’s going to come. “Don’t stop,” he pleads as he goes over the edge. “Keep going, don’t stop, _ah_ \--”

Ushijima curses and strokes him through it, picking up the pace of his thrusts. Iwaizumi gasps and moans, running his palms up Ushijima’s broad back. He opens eyes he didn’t even know he closed, searching for Oikawa.

Oikawa has his head tilted back, looking at them through slitted eyes, not even jerking off so much as just holding himself. He shuffles forward on his knees and grinds against Ushijima’s back, a euphoric expression coming over his face.

“God, look at you,” Iwaizumi says with feeling, aftershocks still rippling through him, making him giddy. “Both of you, you’re so—”

“So what?” Oikawa asks, desperation dripping from his words. “So what, Hajime?”

“ _Beautiful_ ,” Iwaizumi breathes, and Oikawa whimpers and comes.

Ushijima shuts his eyes tight and groans. He looks like he’s still holding back, so Iwaizumi—feeling smug and warm and satisfied—murmurs, “You can come.” He does, going tense and silent for a long moment, before he melts, draping himself over Iwaizumi like a blanket.

“Good game,” Iwaizumi says, and Oikawa, collapses on the bed, bursts into startled laughter.

“Hey, Ushiwaka-chan,” he says airily, when his giggles die down.

Ushijima--who’d been nuzzling affectionately at the countless hickeys he left on Iwaizumi’s neck--lifts his head and makes a dazed noise of inquiry. Oikawa scoots up the bed until he’s lying beside them.

“Want to be my boyfriend?”

Ushijima turns his head to face him and rests it on Iwaizumi’s chest. He considers it, for a moment, and then says, “Yes.”

Oikawa gives him a rare, sweetly sincere smile, radiant enough that Iwaizumi almost feels like he should close his eyes. He doesn’t.

“Glad that’s settled,” he says warmly. He stretches underneath Ushijima, flexing his arms above his head.

“Do we have time to take a nap?” Oikawa whines, flopping over onto his stomach.

The temptation to give in is great, but: “No, you two should eat,” Iwaizumi says reluctantly. “You never got lunch.”

Oikawa sighs mournfully. “Iwa-chan,” he pleads, “I think I deserve to be treated to lunch, don’t you?”

Ushijima reaches over and smacks him.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr as [pageleaf](http://pageleaf.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> pls let me know if you see any inconsistencies/errors ♥♥♥


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